Op-Ed: Do Better, Tinder Users! If I Wanted to Be Called Handsome I Would’ve Stayed Home With My Jewish Mother
Hey handsome.
Ugh. I know that adjective like the back of my hand, and honestly, I’ve heard enough. It’s nice at first, but I’m just craving something different.
“Handsome” is all I hear when I’m at home with my Jewish mother, as I cook breakfast, read my book, or any other activity that reminds my mom that I’m the light of her life. My grandparents, aunts, uncles, her friend Rachel whom I spoke three words to, it’s all the same. I’m wonderful, so talented, handsome, and drowning in dates.
How would you like it if you got the same compliment constantly? Hey Matt, 23, all of the friends with your arms wrapped around each other looked tolerable enough for me to swipe right on, not caring which one you were. Nice gym picture, you look adequate. What’s up, Julie, 22, I gotta say, your music taste is baffling. Your face, it’s just so puzzling.
I mean, really. I’m not fishing for compliments around here, just asking to give me something new, fresh, exciting. From my nose that makes mask-wearing a struggle and curls that my family fawn over with each visit, you should know I get surrounded by praise with the slightest achievement. Tell me something I haven’t heard of before, like, Psychology? Really? Maybe go down a different career path. Or how about, Grandma and Grandpa are a bit tired today, you should reschedule your visit. Throw in a Thought about getting a haircut anytime soon? and now you got my attention.
Not only am I deeply Jewish, but I’m an only child. So, unfortunately, you’ll have to step up your compliments if you even have a shot at beating my mom’s effusive approval. I get 100% of the attention, baby, and I have no time for small talk and half-assed flirts. I don’t actually want to know “how your classes are going,” I’d rather you proofread the essay I’m about to turn in for class and tell me not a comma is out of place. I’d send it to Mom, but she’s a journalist, not a psychologist. I’m sure she’d love it, but I don’t want to put her into a situation where she'd pretend to understand.
Shoot, one more thing: I regret to inform you that I was a test-tube baby. Indeed, my parents resorted to IVF after three emotionally grueling tries for a baby, so I’m somewhat of a miracle back in my hometown. When you’re the only one of 64 embryos that thought to stick with her, you’re bound to receive heaps of appreciation and your every whim fulfilled. So instead of asking me out for coffee, do your parents frequent a mountain resort we can use for a weekend getaway? I prefer skiing over snowboarding. And do you have a jacuzzi? I don't get out of bed for anything less than a jacuzzi.
I know it may seem like I’m coming into this with a list of terms and conditions, but you have to put in the work to be romantically involved with a verified NJB. It’s a high-risk, high-reward scenario. Reel me in with something other than nice words; I’ve heard ‘em all. But if you play your cards right, you might meet Grandpa David and Grandma Miriam for a New Year's Day brunch, and they get Katz’s Deli shipped. Good luck.
