My friends L’Chaim

Clad in shorts and a T-shirt I walked on into my friends L’Chaim in Cleveland. I happened to be in Cleveland another friend on my way to Alaska- yes I am making several stops before I get on my way. My friend wore a black muscle shirt and grey pants- metrosexual style- with dirty old me. I was just too lazy to rummage through my packed up car to find some pants and polo shirt.

Walking in we asked a few folks if we were in the right place, the sea of frummies stared as we entered. I saw the parents both meeting each other for the first time- nervous yet laughing and enjoying the simcha. I immediately walked over to the rather miniscule array of cakes, fruit and liquor. I was hopping for some mad food- but I was disappointed. Next in the engagement routine was to shake my friends hand- meet his rather cute albeit tiny future wife and then proceed to ask her iof she had any hottie freinds who where into hiking. Of course the answer was no. Of course I went to the area where a bunch of makeup clad frummy girls dressed to the tee gigled together. Not such a good croud but better then nothing. My friend sat down and started the endless process of trying to have an interesting conversation with them. Trying to garner something out of them he proceeded to ask each of them what they did for fun? To which the generic reply was- there is nothing to do in this city. This is classic of all people who have no interests. I mean there is always bowling and the mall they said- so to my glee he probed and could not get into them because there was nothing tro them. Indeed another classic homogenius crowd.

Over to the table of food consisting of a few generic brownish liquors, some stale cake and a very uninviting fruit salad. I guess something about frozen fruit (since all fruit has bugs in it) is unappealing.

“Oh your a doctor” I heard some delighted women say to my friend. This is the part he hates- when a bunch of ladies find out a single doctor is in town. “Oh I have the perfect girl for you”- without even bothering to ask him if he’s looking, or what his hashkafa is? No all they know is that he’s got the dough. I have to watch him cringe whenever someone wants to hook him up. Soi there I am and they never notice mne because, well I aint no doctor. I always pipe in and say- hey Im single too- hook a brother up. Oh I didnt even notice you their eyes always seem to say- as if I want to say- I probably would reject anyone you offer me- but c’mon at least throw me a line.

So after checking out the ladies, scarfing down some stale cake, swishing some sprite around my mouth, and shaking a bunch of old mens hands I left.