Mirror, mirror, on the wall
The guys I date get names. Names I use with my friends, and my family. Names they don't know about. I can never remember their real names, the Avrahams and Dovids, the Levys and Rosenbergs. I don't even try. Instead they become "the poet", "the love letter guy", "the creepy one", and so on. Sometimes they get automatic and simple names, based on the places they study- "the Hebrew U." guy, "The Machon Lev" guy, the [insert name of yeshiva here] guy. This guy became the "Photo guy". I didn't go out with him. Instead I heard about him, heard at length of his merits and vital statistics and why he was a perfect match for me. His neighbors told me, his friends in yeshiva told me, and my friends from Seminary told me. They all thought we should go out. It was a match made in heaven. One person however, disagreed. The boy himself. He'd seen my photo, you see. I was surprised by his reaction. Granted, no one would ca...