We are taking over all the cool places in the world.

By 'we', I mean Jewish women from Michigan.

I was at an 'orphans seder' that an aquaintence put on for all of us stranded without family and without Jewish friends.

Suprisingly, the people there were considerably older than me. Most of them were early forties. And still single. I truely hope that is not my destiny as well.

There is apparently a hot bar across the street from where I live called Barcelona. I've seen the building, but never been there, nor have I heard about it from any of my friends. After an evening of socializing with these people, I've come to realize why.

Barcelona is the Midtown.

Am I really old enough to be part of that crowd?

And do I want to be?

Here's the thing. I want to find somebody to share my life with. I want to get married. I want to have children. But I don't feel like I'm ready for that stuff at this point in my life.

But I'm less than six months from 30. Realistically, I can't wait too long. And I would prefer to find somebody Jewish. I'm not insistent on it. It would just make things much easier. Realistically, very few of my good friends are Jewish. In fact, both of my two closest Jewish friends were born gentile. Even growing up in an area of the Detroit suburbs that was basically an upscale shtetl, most of my friends weren't Jewish.

I'm not completely burnt out on dating anymore. Of course, after a blissful two months of silence, Greg called me twice this week. I guess I'm back to screening. The first time he called because 'my number is on his phone'. Um, yeah. His is on mine too. Not so that I can call it. So that I can screen it out. Of course, I had the call forwarding on so I couldn't see it.

Then, yesterday, he called asking for Lisa, and then apologized profusely for dialing the wrong number. Like I hadn't figured that one out by the seventh grade.

I wish it was easier.

To all my fellow Jews, have a Happy Passover.

-CRbE