#58 THE HOT JEWISH DOCTOR: THE BEGINNING
How I have always been the opposite of a ‘cool girl’; our early message exchange on OkCupid
I’m sure that a doctor on a dating site, especially if he is 6’3” and 215 lbs of muscle, gets a lot of messages. Just as the opening line of Pride and Prejudice notes, ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife’ the same is ‘true’ of a ‘ridiculously good-looking doctor’ – or maybe at least in the mind of suitors as we no longer have Mrs Bennets looking out for us. This sort of man has fortune (or perceived fortune potential), status, and prestige, all ‘qualities’ many women seek in a mate.
Pride and Prejudice, perhaps surprisingly, will figure in this tale later.
Let me tell you, when you filter by ‘PhD’ or ‘doctorate’ on somewhere like OkCupid, where I met the ‘hot Jewish doctor,’ you don’t find a lot of hotness (in men – there are lots of sexy, intelligent women). Maybe that sounds shallow and maybe the intellectual stimulation makes up for the distinctive lack of movie-star looks, but I was not in that sort of place in life where ‘hot’ and ‘tall’ weren’t requirements.
I would say I was not the evolved person I’d become (or hope I am) but, let’s get real, spoiler alert: I married a tall, hot husband. But I got nowhere close to ‘marriage material’ with the doctor.
If I tell you that he was a urologist (after deciding against becoming a plastic surgeon), a major in the US Army at the time, and is legit called ‘Dr P’ it would seem made up, but as I imagine the internet will not find him (hopefully) and no photos exist in the wild of us together, I figure it’s okay. Doctor Wee doesn’t have the same ring to it, does it?
Like many a woman before me, I took my chances and messaged him first.
It was the beginning of September 2011. His profile featured many shirtless photos and one of him hanging by a single arm from a rock face from his days of being stationed and living in Hawaii (with his beautiful blonde, athletic first wife no less but I’d not find that out until later). The write-up was correctly punctuated, witty, and funny – it’s a shame I didn’t save it somewhere.
7 September 2011 – Elaine:
So, I'm not skilled at Photoshop, but I can serve as a pretty decent editor for your comic.
Assuming you are interested to know, I just moved to Columbus about three weeks ago for a teaching job – I teach English classes. I taught last year at Valdosta State Uni (in Valdosta, GA if you've heard of it) and now I'm here. What I've learned thus far is that teaching at technical college is much, much different from a university.
More self-promoting stuff: I'm working on my MA in English – finishing up my thesis – with a focus in British Victorian Lit. I'm hopeless and maths and once thought we had two livers. Although this probably makes me sound rather vacuous, I'd like to assure you I'm not – or, well, I'd like to think not (wouldn't we all?). I'd like to think of myself as "differently knowledge-d" than those people who know things about medical things/sciency things.
You seem amusing and direct. I enjoyed reading your list of "things I've learned from online dating." I chuckled.
Also, if you haven't guessed by my very creative username (username?), my name's Elaine.
I enjoy non-sequiturs. And apples. :)
I learned all I needed to know from his excellently written, if maybe a little douchey profile, and more importantly, he had lots of abs. He was a doctor. Tick. And he liked to draw comic book things like Spiderman. I liked to draw so tick. And I don’t think Marvel and DC had taken off in the way they had now so they were still semi-nerdy back then (but Chester can correct me on the timelines).
I was 24 and he was 36, and besides the married professor, he was probably the ‘oldest’ person I’d been on a date with. Twelve years is nothing now that I’m probably officially in the ‘middle-aged category’ but back then, as with Captain Thor, we were worlds apart in our life experience and I’d say I was probably fairly naive having been sheltered by a Bible-belt upbringing.
I’m sure before we even met, I’d imagined and projected what kind of person he’d be and seen us through our entire life story in my head a la Captain Cotillion.
In the present day – very thankfully – I have no idea what OkCupid is like but back in 2011, you could answer a bunch of questions and get your percentage of compatibility so it showed that we were an 89% Match (a solid B), 87% Friend (also solid B), and 15% Enemy (um, that score should be low, so all good).
I didn’t clock the timestamp on my message so I’m not sure how soon he messaged back but I think he replied fairly quickly.
7 September 2011, 12.20pm – Dr P:
Elaine,
Unfortunately apples keep doctors away so they say, but since I got my degree from a cereal box top mail in promotion I should be safe.
Does being an English teacher mean you are a good Scrabble player because it's hard to find good competition these days? You used a plethora of SAT words that I had to go to dictionary.com to learn the meaning of. But don't hold that against me (or that I ended the last sentence with a preposition). My vocabulary is limited by my 7th grade education. Apparently you can't keep repeating grades in middle school once you turn 18.
I have heard of Valdosta. I think I did a road trip there during college, but the details are hazy. Where did you live in Florida?
Did you always want to be a teacher? I'm sure the technical college crowd provides hours of entertainment.
Is [redacted but the name of a Fleetwood Mac song thanks to my parents] your middle name or do you just really like the Fleetwood Mac song?
Talk to you soon,
[First name]
P.S. I promise to use lots of non sequiturs in my next response. And to end world hunger.
I roll my eyes at myself and my level of dickishness and how badly I wanted to impress potential dates.
Also, back in high school I got super obsessed with eating green apples and would eat, like, four per day but later Dr P told me that you should really only eat the skin of the apple because the rest of it was mostly sugar (we were all big low carbers back then – but the man loved Reece’s cups and Cheez-its so I take advice with a pinch of salt). And my adorable nutritionist now says, ‘Get that fibre in, baby’ so apples are on the menu (no, those are not David’s words heh). Also, Brittany’s favourite snack was also Cheez-its but no, it did not endear them to each other.
I think I have a somewhat obsessive personality so it’s good that I’ve never smoked and no longer a big drinker (even back then I never drank at home and only socially). If I love a food, I will eat it until I’m sick of it like that one time in uni where I decided dumplings were my new obsession.
7 September 2011, 1.03pm – Elaine:
[First name],
Yeah, gotta love those box-top promotion degrees. Who checks credentials anyway? I mean, my degree is still in a cardboard tube. Or is that a cereal box? Point being, no one has ever asked to see it. Which makes me wonder if I could just be a lawyer. Maybe I'll try it?
I think being an English teacher should mean I'm good at Scrabble, but I think one also has to be good at English AND maths to be good at scrabble since it's all about the mega-bonus points. Plus, I get stuck with lame letters – no vowels and lots of Qs and Zs – and, well, who can make words from lame letters?
I think it's now "acceptable" to end sentences with prepositions; although, frankly, it still makes me cringe. Mostly because there's a better way to construct a sentence to avoid ending in a preposition; however, there are some cases when it's necessary.
Why you'd take a road trip to Valdosta, I'm not certain. Though, we do have some okay bars. And a university.
I lived in both Orlando and Oviedo – so central Florida. Did you ever live in Florida?
[Middle name] is my middle name. I was either named after the Welsh Horse Goddess (what I'd like to think) or the Fleetwood Mac song (which is okay, if a bit repetitive). My parents are “unique” and Fleetwood Mac fans, too.
Did I always want to be a teacher? Hmm...no. I just can't figure out (yet) how to do the other 5 jobs I'd love to do and be able to eat at the same time. For example, working in an entry-level position at Penguin in New York pays a grand $20k/year. Not that I'm all about money, but I'm all about being able to pay rent and eat without relying on other people. I'm sure I'd have lots of fun living in my cardboard box in Brooklyn. But, for now, I like teaching (or I'm delusional). Well, I like the actual teaching part. The grading part is not very fun. And the adjunct part is even less fun since it's practically slave labour. (I wish I was kidding.) And at this point I'd probably be better off in the whole box-New-York-80-hour-week-publishing-job thing, except I can supplement my teaching income with tutoring, so I can afford to live and drink and drive and do other necessary things like eat.
I actually like the technical college kids. They are eager to learn. Except I do get amusing questions/situations--like the time my student came to the right class, but on the wrong day – and that's happened more than once. I guess the whole "schedule" thing is confusing. Especially when it says "MW" or "TR." Seriously, one girl thought "MW" meant Monday through Wednesday. Yeah...
As you may be able to tell, I'm a tad verbose. Oops!
Not much has changed there…
How's the world hunger thing going? I'd hoped there'd be a handsome doctor to solve that issue, so thanks. Note: I'll express gratitude in a manner of your choosing.
So much cringe.
So, what are your hobbies (if you have time for them. I like to think of hobbies as those things that one really likes to do, but no one has time for them)? What I know about you: you have muscles, you like to hang from concrete, you have a white shirt, archery may be something you enjoy, or maybe you just enjoy taking off your shirt – again, and again, again...lots of pictures sans shirt – (?), you like to question if people have crabs, and you like touching balls. Hmm...
Also, how's your day?
- Elaine x
I can’t even formulate a self-deprecating enough response to how much I was trying to impress this guy that I didn’t even know all because of the very limited information provided on a profile.
But maybe that’s everyone on a dating site at first. Except those kind of beardy men with the confidence of rock stars who list all the qualities they want in their ideal partner (a la this post by a writer called ‘PomeroySays’ I found hilarious on Medium). They don’t have to impress you. You have to fit their checklist even to get a look in at all their magnificence. This guy who is 38 wants a woman no older than 26 who is a vixen in the bedroom but a perfect Catholic conservative otherwise, no children, and no heavier than 125 lbs – and a size ‘12-16’ waist (is that inches? Does this guy know how to measure, does he know about women’s sizes, and that even the perfect Rosie Huntington Whitely has a 25-inch waist?). Rolls eyes at these kind of men. And maybe I was that kind of (less extreme) woman back then?
All I can say is thank fuck I’m off the market. I feel for you, ladies, out there in the wilds today. Tinder wasn’t invented in my days of dating and I never used it and it does seem like the ultimate firebox doesn’t it?
8 September 2011, 12.06am – Dr P:
Elaine,
The whole "doctor" thing IS my hobby. My real job is in waste management.
I’m not sure if he’d mentioned on his profile that he was a urologist but he made a couple of veiled attempts at revealing that in his messages.
Most of my college friends went to law school. Although successful, I don't think many of them are very happy. I think if you are a fake lawyer, that would be waaaaay more fun. Have you seen that DiCaprio movie "Catch Me If You Can?" (or read the book).
I will need a list of what makes the lame letters lame and the cool letters cool. Since you teach English, I will also need you to put a quarter in the quarter jar every time I successfully use a literary device (25 cents for the alliterations above). You can elect the punishment (say spankings... say spankings) of your choice for any mispellings or grammatical mistakes.
My parents were hippies. I'd say still are, but pushing 60, the weed they smoke is more for glaucoma than wordly insight and staying mellow.
I’m not sure the ‘hippy’ description counts if your father is a doctor and they look like they have a country club membership and their own mini yacht. And their photos look like those airbrushed blonde all-American families who have portraits taken every year.
My passion is my art, though I also love to sing and play a few sports (awkwardly). I own a piano, but I haven't played it as much as I should. I'm a pretty solid music and movie trivia wizard, though I don't actually dress up like a wizard for trivia. I also make hair puppets for when I practice voodoo. What do you do for fun/hobbies?
Do I at least get some credit for not taking a photo in my bathroom on my cell phone camera while flexing? Jeez, I tried to cleverly add some douchie photos without actually being a douche. Since those pictures are 20 years old, I confess I've since added 243 pounds and I shrunk 4 inches. Very very sexy.
Guarantee that if a handsome doctor or anyone for that matter actually solves world hunger, we will hear about him or her on Oprah first. Hmmm... need to figure out another way to get gratitude (eyes look upwards and ponders).
My work stories are best told over drinks. I'm not sure where your filter is, but mine is often non-operational when I tell said stories, so I save them for when I'm in crowded public places with children around. I know I said drinks... because in Alabama they apparently allow children in bars.
What kind of accent do you get with Alabama farm town, middle of Florida and England yield? I'm guessing you speak very proper redneck.
Honestly though, I'm with you on the do-what-you-have-to-do-to-do-what-you-love.
Are you related to Malcolm X or is that the start of an xoxoxoxo string?
I had a pretty crazy day. I was actually sitting in Firestone while they figured out why my car broke down this morning and was typing you an email, when my phone beeped. Lo and behold, you had sent me one. So I scrapped my lame attempt to woo you with humor and replied to your far more witty letter. I then got a ride to work and immediately had to go to the OR for an emergency surgery. (I was a saving a twisted nut - thats testicle not homicidal crazy person). I get about 1 emergency a month. Tops. Well, I left the OR only to have another emergency in the clinic with a kid who couldn't urinate. And then I got called about another emergency in the ER. Yeah, then I hitched a ride back to Firestone so they could treat my bank account like it’s the stock market. Finally got home and commiserated with my friend Matt (downstairs neighbor) who got stood up on a date tonight. Finally got a chance to sit down and compose this wonderfully well-written witty and modestly wordy response with the hopes to impress you so that in my next email I can ask for your number. And bring about world peace.
How was your day?
[First name (middle name)]
P.S. I totally failed on my non-sequiturs
I mean I thought the banter was cute at the time…and it kinda was and I can see how baby 24-year-old me was totally taken in by this. I remember when I was first dating the doctor and I was on the phone to my Uncle Tim saying ‘why is he even dating me? And surely I’m going to fuck it up…’ Spoiler: I did! But my uncle said really nice things and gave me confidence – exact words unremembered. But I had/have good uncles.
8 September 2011, 1.18am – Elaine:
Is it desperate to reply under an hour later and past 1 am? Maybe! The 8th of September also happens to be my high school twin besties, Sarah’s and Anna’s, birthday.
[First and middle name],
I guess the middle name is a response to the fact that I just gave you my middle name up-front, which makes me question if I'm revealing too much – in general – about myself on such a public (public?) outlet. Hmm.
Was I hyper-aware of the You vibes before You was even a book or a popular TV series? Thankfully, I met neither a stalker or a murderer. Well, I did briefly have a sort of stalker that I may explore some time but they only ever rang me or texted me the colour of my fingernails (which is sort of unsettling) but never approached me or did other weird things. And once they rang me pretending to be the hot Clark Kent nun guy (read this post for deets) who was a friend from high school and I said that it didn’t sound like that person and they hung up.
I'm familiar with _Catch Me If You Can_. Interesting concept. Although, I'm not quite sure it'd work in the 2000s or is it the 10s now? 11s? And I definitely don't want to be a lawyer. English majors often go to law school; I chose to study more literature. Whether that was a good decision or not, I'll decide in the next decade. I'll eventually (maybe) go and get my PhD, so I can be called "Dr" too. Since Master's degrees are increasingly more common, I'd like to be in that top 1-2% of the population (which includes all MDs and PhDs) that has earned a doctoral degree. Although, I think monetarily speaking, PhDs are non longer a sound investment. Back to fake-lawyer-ing; I dislike arguing. I like "debating" sometimes, but hate arguing. I think I'd be a poor lawyer (fake or real). I do, however, like wearing suits, but I can do that with teaching.
I never did get that PhD…but now really I wouldn’t earn more than I already do at my editorial day job and is it even worth that level of mental effort? Maybe if I retire early at 60, I’ll try then.
We'll discuss lame versus cool letters at a later date. It would be exhaustive to label each of our alphabet's 26 letters as 'lame' or 'cool' without context. Probably the best letters are: a, e, s, t, and maybe b. Mostly because most words are made of those letters. Though, in that case, I should celebrate the unique letters, but for scrabble purposes, q isn't my friend. I particularly possess a penchant for alliteration. Go you! But, math makes my mandible (reaching here--does that mean jaw?) meander (yeah, that doesn't work)...real point, the whole quarter thing is too much to add. Does it count that you misspelled 'misspelling'? Spanking to follow.
I used to dabble in the arts – painting, drawing, and writing. But now I'm limited to writing. I rarely paint. I sing like fingernails – bitten, jagged ones – on glass. And I'm serious. I'm never modest about things I do well. Drunken karaoke is fun. When very inebriated. I mean, why do karaoke if you can actually sing? What's the point? Bad, loud singing is much better and way more obnoxious, no? It makes the "audience" wish that you could sing. Also, I enjoy hearing the piano played – how coincidental! Perhaps you'll play for me one day? I'm sad to hear you have no wizard costume. I'm decent at movie trivia and hopeless at music trivia. Hair puppets, eh?
I'm not even sure what I do for fun anymore. Watch films. Walk in pretty gardens. Travel. Talk to people. Do something other than grading, lesson planning, and the like. I used to like painting (as I said). I enjoy writing still – when I have the time. Cooking. Swimming. Taking photographs. Drinking. Um, lots of drinking as a grad student. I found that I needed it more then.
I wasn't criticizing your photos. I was "analyzing" them. I credit you for no arm-flex-phone-camera photos for sure. Haha! 20 years old – so you were 15 when they were taken. Nice!
Isn't Oprah no longer on the air? I wouldn't know though as I don't watch television.
I must hear these drunken work stories! They sound very amusing.
Who said anything about Alabama farm town? I said South Georgia, central Florida, and England. Proper redneck. Haha! Actually, I have what I'd consider a pretty neutral, "generic" American accent.
The whole 'x' thing is a kiss and it is apparently one of those cultural things.
XOXO is very American. In England you give friends and acquaintances one 'x' for a kiss (symbolizes cheek, hand, etc), two kisses indicates a closer relationship, and three a very close one (family, lover, significant other, friend with benefits, et cetera).
Firestone is a tire place, right? Or is it a mechanic shop too? And I'm flattered to know that you were writing a message to me. What were you going to say? I'd hate to have to type on a phone! I'm more impressed by your usage of commas now and punctuation and capitalization. Ha!
Sounds like you have had a busy day. Wow!
My days are pretty much the same lately. I plan my lessons for the next day; I teach; I tutor; I may teach again; then I go to Starbucks/Barnes and Noble to plan more lessons (or I may even squeeze in some thesis work if I'm feeling particularly ambitious); then I go home and do more lesson planning, eating, exercising (assuming I have energy). I'm sure you can barely contain your excitement on hearing about my adventurous life. I'm pretty sure I used to do more, but as I literally moved here three weeks ago, (sadly) the only friend I have is my roommate. We were roommates for two years in graduate school and we knew each other in undergrad too, so we're rather close, but I'm used to having a very large network of friends/people I party with, so it's been an interesting adjustment thus far.
I apologize if my response lacked wit and felt drained of energy. I'm still working on lesson planning for tomorrow. I'm not sure where the day went. I'm teaching argumentation in one class and the writing process in another tomorrow. Fun fun fun!
Oh, and you don't have to muster another impressive response for my number, I'll just give it to you: 229 XXX XXXX.
Hope to hear from you soon.
I also hope that there are fewer emergencies tomorrow – both for you and your patients – as inability to urinate and testicle trouble sounds rather unpleasant.
-Elaine x
And that’s all I have for our OkCupid messages. We must have moved to texting then on my trusty old red Sony flip-phone where he had a cool, expensive iPhone.
I tried so very hard to impress him in these early messages. I half always wanted to be myself, which is why I always ate as usual on first dates (like a horse) but then I also tried to seem ‘cool’ and ‘fun’ and ‘chill’ and I believed I was that but really I was an overthinker and a bit neurotic. I didn’t let life just ‘be’ but maybe this hyper fixation on dating was a way of ‘controlling’ an ‘uncontrollable’ world at the time.
The 20s are a fraught time for many young people especially if you’re there following the path you’re told you ought to follow (i.e. further education) and life isn’t shaping up as you wanted it to. I was also trying to find my place in the world and what I wanted. I knew I didn’t want the traditional markers of successful womanhood (marriage, babies, housewifeliness) but also that was prevalent in the South at the time as a goal.
But I did want a life partner to share life with or I thought I wanted that. I was torn between settling and being free and having fun. After being caged and tied down by my first love (high school sweetheart) and then cruelly rejected and devalued by Dorian (the Stella Adler Academy Actor – Captain Thor wouldn’t come until after the doctor), then I was in a vulnerable place dating-wise.
But Columbus with its professional class of men and abundance of soldiers seemed like a new venturer, like the place to find the unique brand of man I was looking for – one who met my checklist, who was handsome, successful, fun, interesting, intelligent, good in bed, and whatever else I thought I needed.
Next up, my first date with the hot Jewish doctor.
Don’t forget to check out the other fifty-seven posts I’ve written, including the one on why I’m writing this newsletter/blog in the first place – and the odd “present day snippet” of what I’m up to lately.
Have you ever tried super hard to impress someone who you thought had all the markers of ‘success’ and ‘status’ you lacked?
Your posts are so entertaining and brutally honest, and this guy's sense of humor was great!
Online dating wasn't a thing back in my day. I got married at 24 after lots of partying and too many 'hook-ups' (the term one-night stand sounds so slutty.) I was actually searching for love in all the wrong places (and positions) and didn't like myself much. Thank God I survived those eight years without getting an STD, arrested, or killed.