You: Jewish, attractive and drunk

Me: Not Jewish (Gentile), dashing, gazelle on the dance floor and
drunk

In case you were as blacked out as I think you were, I feel as though
I should reintroduce myself. You were dancing around and enjoying the
festive cake and brownies at the JCC inaugural bar mitzvah…I mean
inaugural ball, before cabbing to Chinatown and passing out in my
bed. Nothing makes me swoon for interfaith relationships like a girl
who passes out in my lap in the back of a cab.

You might be asking yourself "why did that sweet boy not call me?"
or "did I really wake up in a random guy's bed in Chinatown?" and
other important questions to gauge whether or not last night was a
dream, drunken haze or bittersweet reality. Allow me to answer those
questions.

While I have not called you, I did text you to make sure you
succeeded in getting a cab at 7am and making it to work on time.
However, in the heat of the moment last night, you either you gave me
the wrong number, or we were both so fed up that the number went into
my phone incorrectly. My equally blacked out friend (who you met in
the bathroom and introduced us on the dance floor) pawned you off on
me – the responsible, mitzvah-seeking guy who had been hitting on you
most of the night – when it became clear that you could not
effectively locate any of your belongings or coherently tell us where
you lived.

Upon stumbling into my apt, you decided the party must go on, albeit
you couldn't stand or keep your eyes open. Again, quality traits I
look for when asking myself, "could I see myself converting for this
woman?" Once you changed into my clothes and passed out immediately
in my bed, I wasn't sure whether to sleep on the floor or in my bed.
However, the cute way you drunkenly mumbled to yourself "I should
stop drinking on Tuesdays" as you woke up, confirmed my decision to
sleep in bed and make sure you didn't suffocate in the sea of pillows
before you.

I must say, the morning wasn't as awkward as I thought it'd be. I
figured you'd freak out, not knowing where you were or whose bed you
were in. You took relative comfort in how I left a big glass of water
and Excedrin (not rufies) on the table. After offering you more
clothing to keep you warm outside and walking you out to get a cab, I
went back to bed saying to myself, "I think that classy woman might
be the one."

If you're reading this, my offer to take you out to dinner still
stands. I'm a mensch at heart and will bring the Manischewitz.
Location: Chinatown-Gallery Place
www.GuardDogBooks.com