Mr Israel was born in America to a Jewish family. To make things exciting, his father was a Rabbi. I guess as an Iranian that is the equivalent of dating the anti-Christ. As you’re probably aware, the previous Iranian president famously wanted to start a nuclear warfare with Israel. I guess that made Mr Israel more attractive; the forbidden fruit and a chance for a real Romeo and Juliet story.
Mr Israel was a male clone of me. He was outrageously judgemental, slightly blunt and quite sassy. At first sight, I thought he was gay in his Gucci Revolt black leather loafers, oversized jumper and skin-tight Balmain jeans. He was trendy, but it was all so effortless. He talked in that lazy and soft American way that I like; American accents can get quite annoyingly nasal. His accent was gentle to my ears, which was a delight!
We met in the summer at my go-to sushi place and had really strong hot sake. I always forget how much I hate hot sake as I never have it consistently enough to recall how I feel about it. It turns out that he was passing through Europe for 3 months as annual ritual and he was going to be in London sporadically for about 3-4 weeks. He finished his blurb, looked beyond my shoulder and judged the girl behind eating sushi with a fork. I saw the judgement in his eyes and I loved it. It was the kind of shit I did on a daily basis. The only difference was that I was ashamed of it, but he did not give a shit. He was a rebel, rock star boy that was the ‘Black Sheep’ of a very conservative family. The dichotomy appealed to me; I love people who are a bit different, as I get bored easily.
Throughout the next couple of weeks, we went shopping, dining and site seeing together and it was a breath of fresh air. I never had to explain my idiosyncrasies to him, as he already fully empathised with them. He didn’t question the need for me to walk around with different suitcases for hours, so that I can find the perfect case that matched my legs. He even helped me critique different cases and took pictures from different angles that really helped inform my decision (see final choice below).
More surprisingly, he seemed to anticipate what I was going to do and say before I said it. When we met, I told him that I thought orange juice wasn’t worth the calories unless if it was freshly squeezed. From then onwards, at every single restaurant, he always ask if the juices were freshly squeezed and he wouldn’t stop there, as he would go on to clarify that freshly squeezed meant by hand on site. He always asked for me at every single restaurant and if the answer was yes to both he would know that I would always say yes, so he always went ahead and ordered for me anyway. It was as if he was willing to take that hit for me. That judgement in the eye of the waiter when you clarify if it is ‘squeezed by hand on site’ was what he endured for me as he was a gentleman, despite his very tight jeans.
Meeting Mr Israel filled me with hope for the modern man, because at first look he didn’t look much like what I imagine the perfect gentleman to look like but he pushed me to challenge my biased mind. Of course, the summer had to come to and end and the inconvenience of time zones means we now catch up once a month.
|Offered to pay the bill||Yes|
|Insisted on paying the bill||Yes|