I met you at a kiddush in an Orthodox Synagogue in Manhattan. We are both children of Holocaust survivors and spoke Yiddish to each other. You are approx 55, cute, from Brooklyn and now live in Westchester. I am 44, very successful and attractive, and have always lived on the Upper East Side–5th Ave.You told me how you love chulent and I told you I make a mean one (with the hard boiled egg in it). When you sang that Yiddish song to me, I fell apart and invited you to my apartment. When you said you could not go, I told you that my kids are with their father this weekend and I am alone. And if you came over right now, I would take my ex’s Tfilin out of the closet, tie you up with the shel Rosh and whip you with the shel Yad.You weren’t ready then–Are you ready now? This Friday night is Mitzvah Night again–would you like to sing some zmirot at my Shabbos Table, and then????…. I have so many guys asking me out, yet I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s meshugah, isn’t it?
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