True Tennis Story
The Tel Aviv wedding smorgasbord is dripping with food. I stand on the side observing the crowd attacking – do they not have food at home?! I overhear the Texas guy next to me - he wants to play tennis while on holiday… Game on!
The week before, I swipe right on a legging-clad girl on a dating app. New York-based Israeli who has worked in tech and likes Israel - it’s a match. I try a relevant opening line, and we end up chatting. She suggests having a chat by phone to not waste our time. I’m in New York next week anyway so why not?
We schedule a call – she lives on Wall Street now and wants to get find a guy ASAP no time to lose on her side, she warns me it’s complicated. What is it going to be this time?
Let’s have a game tomorrow I say to smorgasbord guy – “you were a professional player?” Even better! The next day, Ira and I end up playing at the heat of the day. Heavy baseline. Time for a water break. Some life factoids get exchanged invariably women come up. You don’t know what I recently experienced?!
Gal picks up the phone with a discernible Israeli accent – “ehhh I am ffrom Israel vere did you grow up?” We sniff each other out. She’s seriously in a hurry. The big reveal is not for this call but only another time she says.
The next day’s call reveals the catch. Gal thought about doing an abortion when this guy knocked her up. She could not do it - so Gal decided to keep it. They were simply not meant for one another – had nothing in common. Now she is alone at his home on Wall Street and wants to find a partner to help her look after her kid. “Are you up for that?” she asks. “We haven’t even met yet!” I say whilst rolling my eyes on the other side of the planet.
When I mention the story Ira’s ears perk up. “I think I know her,” he says with a smirk. “What do you mean?” I ask, wiping the sweat from my forehead.
Ira laughs. “You won’t believe it. Jonathan, my old friend from college, has been dating a girl exactly like the one you’re describing. Wall Street, late 30s, wants to get married. He took her to Paris on the second date. Then he helicoptered her to the Hamptons when back in Manhattan - the whole nine yards! He is always such a freier! It can’t be the same person, right? Wait what’s her name?” I am reluctant to share. I show her picture. “Gal? No way. What are the chances? That b8tch.”
Next week we sit at NOBU Wall Street. Jonathan had it all arranged. The place gets busy after all. “Let’s order the usual” he says “and a bottle of sake!” “We got to talk – your meeting was simply too coincidental!” I am more interesting by now in his life story “so what made you write the quant managers handbook?” “Oh it was pure luck I met someone who wrote the manuscript and had no luck. I bought it and sent the document to a whole lot of publishing houses and Wiley somehow accepted it!”
We move over to a coffee place around the corner and whip out the chess board – we had already found out about our many shared interests. “Jonathan reveals the salacious dating story - how the the girl had wooed him. The princess seemed to be only interested in his book royalties. He had been exceedingly reluctant to make her his queen when he found out.
Jonathan sighs, leans back in his chair, and stares at the ceiling. “Well, I guess I dodged a bullet there. Thanks, man.” I don’t know whether to laugh or feel bad. The coincidence is uncanny. Jonathan is also stunned.
As we leave the restaurant, Jonathan smirks. “Looks like Ira did me a favour huh?” The game was over for her before it even started.