Wrong Number

Faith & Mr Restaurateur

As Ethan went home two weeks before during the high Jewish holidays (year 5778 in Jewish calendar; 2018 in the usual calendar) and returning to Manila (his work base) around Hannukah. That was the time I asked the Rabbi to instruct me Halachic Judaism for conversion, to forget my past and to live my remaining years in this lifetime as a Jewish woman. Even when at the back of my head, I can't do it - why does this always happen to me? Every time I am about to knock and ask, a new job opportunity would come along. A job is scarce for writers, and more scarce as a non-Asian foreigner in Asia. I braved it, forgetting that job opportunity in the Maldives. It's only job. Only a job. A job be can found anywhere and everywhere, but not this opportunity a good community and a friendship that makes me a better person.

Thankfully the Rabbi said, 'no.'

I thought, I should contemplate more, contemplate harder. Just use some of my savings from my script sales in the past year.

Though there's a man in the community, a playboy type, someone Ethan cannot stand at all. He is no other than Mr. Restaurateur. An influential man in the community. My loyalty belonged to my friendship with Ethan, not eating Eli's falafel behind Ethan's back. After all, Ethan said he'd buy me a shawarma in Israel and no Israel cuisine is better than the ones in the actual Holy Land.

'Hey Londoner,' he called me as a exited the synagogue.

I looked back at him out of politeness. Actually, I found him handsome. It isn't just me, many women do. He also became silently famous among the American expats both Jewish and non Jewish. An American acquaintance dubbed him as the "handsome restaurateur." The French expat who is a feminist (a single woman who's married to being a big four consultant) described him as the perfect man 'a handsome man who can cook. He's the kind of man I'd go home to, he can cook for you and in return you can give him management consultant advising for expanding his business in a sustainable manner.' 

Ethan, warned me of men like Mr Restaurateur, and that Israel and Jewish people are not immune to having a few jerks in the ethnic group.

I find Mr Restaurateur handsome. He has this commanding Russian Jewish handsomeness in him, confident yet annoying. But I never told Ethan that I once thought of having Mr Restaurateur for lunch.

Ethan is handsome in his own right, and even much taller than Mr Restaurateur (who's just my height, as to why many women just look at him and fantasize about him, but hardly date him, aside from the local Asian women) in which he can pass as a model citizen for the Sephardic people or half Sephardic half Ashkenazi people (to be more exact) - beautifully olive, intensive brown eyes and strong Hebrew accent, and nevertheless sometimes sporting a Jewfro.

'It's okay, it's just normal Jewish protocol to turn down a gentile three times.' Mr Restaurateur said as if he wants to talk more, but he can sense my tense. I felt tense because I naturally feel shy around handsome men, with the exception of Ethan.

'I heard,' I nodded and sounding jaded. I like the way he looks, I just don't like the way he is.

'Let's do coffee,' I cannot believe he just asked me out.

'Erm,' I felt really tired as I walked to the Synagogue on a heat that felt like forty degrees.

'Now?' I was trying to stall.

'Yeah, there's a Starbucks near my flat. I did use to live in London, did you know that?'

His attempts of small talk is not as striking as Ethan's, with him you know you're talking to a classy man who dresses casually, who at least talks about issues and ideas.

'Can we do this next time?' I hated it when men ask me impromptu, but if there's anything I learnt from Jewish men - always be ready! No wonder I find many eligible Jewish women in my area in Manchester (where I studied with my bat Cohen best friend), always with good well paying jobs, to buy the good quality lingerie, and beautiful dresses - because you just never know when luck strikes.

'It's only a coffee,' he insisted.

'The luck,' I silently thought, they don't come always.

'Go for it,' I walked with him towards apartment, opposite end of where Ethan and I live.