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In black and white,
In truth its colors
Fill ones' sight.
I am blessed to have a great-grandmother as a great friend. She is as sharp as anything and knows what matters.
When I come to visit her, I can share stories up to heaven about work about school and she will listen with great interest.
And then with this cute smile she will say:
Tania, are you meeting any young men?
Oh, there is no way of getting around it... really no way.
So I start telling her: I went out with this guy, so-and-so happened, that guy, so-and-so.
I'll tell her one of my crazy stories, thinking that I blew her away only to have her tell me:
"You think this is bad? Let me tell you about a guy I went out with..."
And thus the amazing story begins...
I was thirteen years old when a young man from Torah Vadaas asked her out.
Since he was from a good yeshiva, my father allowed for us to meet.
The Bochur picked me up from my apartment in the Bronx and took me to a night club, they were nothing like they are today, where we had soda and spoke the whole night.
Then this young man looked at his watch and realized it was twelve o'clock.
He told me that it would take so long for him to take me all the way to the Bronx and then return to Williamsburg, so he took me to the train station and I went alone.
When I got home, my father wanted to know why I was alone.
I told him what had happened.
He was horrified. To let a maideleh alone at night? What is he, a meshigine?
When the bochur called a few days later for a second date, my father picked up the phone.
He let him have a piece of his mind.
The bochur apologized promising it would never happen again and asked for another shot.
My father agreed.
The bochur picked me up and this time we went for a walk in the park. We kept it local.
At the end of the date, he told me:
I would like to kiss you good night, but you have to go to the mikvah before that.
I at my innocent age of thirteen, had no idea what a mikvah was, so I told him I would think about it.
When I came home, I asked my mother what a mikvah was.
This time both my parents were flaring in anger at this embarrassment of a bochur and we never went out again after that.
That was for people who thought dating in the olden days was boring.
