February 29, 2008

How Was Yoga?

It was a dark restaurant called Galaxy. Naomi sat at the bar, waiting, her back turned away. Her hair was down. This would be our second date. Even as I approached, I thought she looked more formal, a little more elegant than the last time. I liked it.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hi!” She looked excited to see me.

We kissed on the cheeks. Her hand went to my face and she held it there for a moment. She had a light touch. I was surprised at the intimacy. I liked that, too. Still, something was strange. The girl I had met only once before had a slacker dimension that was missing tonight. A sliver of doubt crept in.

“So how was yoga?” I asked.

She looked at me strangely.

“Didn’t you just come from yoga?”

No comprende.


“I don’t understand.”

By now I had begun to to sweat. I felt droplets on my neck.

“You’re not Naomi, are you?”


She may not have been Naomi, but she was definitely a Jew. Or an Italian. I can’t tell the difference between the two.

“Christ, I’m sorry. You look just like her. I only met her once. We’re having a second date tonight.”

She started laughing.

“Oh, my God. I thought you were somebody I knew from maybe where I once worked.”

I laughed, too. But it wasn’t as free and easy as hers. I wished she were Naomi. I found her deeply attractive.

“I can’t believe,” I said, “that I just kissed a stranger.”

“Well, my name’s Sally. What’s yours?”


For some reason I turned and there was Naomi coming out of the ladies’ room.

“And there she is,” I said.

Naomi approached with a big smile on her face. It was the real Naomi this time. We kissed in a rushed way. She completely ignored the other woman. I turned to Sally. Sally leaned forward.

“Good luck,” she whispered.