Ah, the dog days of August. A time when 12 year-olds lay down their Xbox consoles and go questing for a little league world series title. The games are a multicultural event, with everyone from Chinese Taipei to Honduras to Canada participating, with irritating has-beens like Nomar Garciaparra in the booth to gush about sportsmanship and praise well-executed sacrifice bunts. There have been some great local stories come out of Williamsport, and watching these kids reminds me of my own days as a doe-eyed first basemen in my local New Jersey little league chapter . For my friends and I, it was our first introduction to what we called ‘the other side of the tracks’. Our town’s train rails divided the rich, white affluent Jewish population from the poor African American and Hispanic communities. My first tryout was in the back of a public school, and us pasties looking on in trepidation as our darker-skinned brethren hit screaming line drives and threw fast enough to make a catchers mitt smoke. I remember going up against Jason Hernandez, who threw so fast I tried in vain to re-create the batters box as a rectangle rather than, well, a box. I remember watching a mammoth of a kid named Jamal Bush launch home runs that looked like they actually might never land. After practice, I’d watch these kids get on their bikes and ride like the wind to mysterious corners of my town as I waited for a minivan to pick me up for Carvel ice cream. They were almost an alien species, appearing for practices and games and disappearing just as quickly. But they loved baseball, and were full of antics and shenanigans that loosened up our severely anal upbringings. I remember a kid named Hassan lying in wait as my friend swung a bat in the on deck circle and, just as he was heading to the plate, snuck up and pantsed the crap out of him. It was one of the funniest things I had ever seen, and something none of my friends would have had the balls to do. Pre-game jitters were usually justified, as our commissioner, a short, no-nonsense, consistently hoarse voiced black woman named Barbara would make us line up and ‘check’ to see if we were wearing cups. Still, those hot summer days on Garrity Field were some of the best of my life, and although we never saw any of these kids again, made us realize at a young age that there was life outside our cozy corner of the world. Also, our teams would have absolutely sucked had they been all Jewish.

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It’s Tuesday! So…at least it’s not Monday anymore? And the American economy isn’t still plummeting? (Peers out from under Ralph Lauren comforter). On Mondays I usually feel like I want to sit in a ditch and play with pogs all day long instead of doing anything productive. Just as long as I have my particular slammer, I’m good. But on to some advice, shall we?

Today’s query comes from a chick who finds that dudes want to get into her Hanky Pankys after a first date. Onward ho(e)! (Terrible, terrible joke. Forgive me, Kelsey the intern hasn’t spoon-fed me my iced coffee yet today.)

Dear FFJD,

Recently, I’ve come across a bit of a dilemma on first dates. Since when have guys started to expect sex on the first date?? I’ve never been one to give it up on the first date, nor do I plan to start doing that, and I’ve never had a problem with waiting until now. I thought I hit the NJB jackpot with this one guy, until I could sense his disappointment when I didn’t sleep with him after the first date. What could have happened?

–Dazed and Confused

Sometimes I like to speak in movie titles, such as above. So basically, if you’re emailing me asking for advice I like to make up a silly name for you. Next person gets to be Finkel & Einhorn. But more important is this issue. There are a couple of things going on here. First of all – guys like to get down. Get jiggy. (I know I’m speaking in PG-13). So basically, yeah, they want to probably hook up with you. Sure, we can believe that guys are taking you out for your intelligence and pop culture savvy, but there is a significant physical element you can’t ignore.

That’s the difference between a friend and someone you’re dating. And this is true for women as well.

However, there is not and should not be any pressure to do things physically that you are either uncomfortable with or not ready for. If a guy is disappointed that you won’t sleep with him on the first date, tough Tollhouse cookie. I also think that if you’re going out with guys who expect that after a first meeting, you might be looking in the wrong places.

I got a member of the Manel to weigh in on this issue, which I will publish tomorrow. In the meantime, put your thoughts in the comments!

Email: meredith@theffjd.com
Follow The FFJD on Twitter!

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Thanks to a comment on my previous column, I’ve come to realize that I haven’t delved into spiritual aspects or G-d in my writings as much as I should. There are a few reasons for this. When you’re converting, the first thing that happens is (hopefully) the warm welcoming from the Jewish community. I think I’ve focused mainly on the community aspects of it because, quite frankly, how I feel about G-D is complicated, as it should be.

One of the reasons I love Judaism is that you can ask millions of questions and learn about different interpretations and still have more to talk about. I grew up under the impression that G-D existed, and that was that. There was no questioning. I prayed to do well in school and to get what I wanted for Christmas and for G-D to make me into the next Britney Spears (Still working on that I see, G-D). It wasn’t until I was 13 that an acquaintance told me she didn’t believe in G-D to make me realize that I didn’t either. The idea of one thing up there in the sky controlling everything was like a fairy tail. Not to sound cliché, but I compared G-D to Santa Claus. Still, all those years, I believed things were meant to happen and that there was a rhythm and a circle of life that I couldn’t explain. I wasn’t satisfied with being an atheist, I realized, after I began studying Judaism. Atheism didn’t provide me with the kind of happiness and understanding I receive when I learn about Judaism.

I have a lot of problems with the Torah, too, which is why I am reluctant to always share my feelings. I am a bit on the edge about divine retribution. Sure, it’s nice to think that there is justice in the world and G-D is taking care of it all. But it’s hard to think that when bad things are happening to me, and I think I’ve been righteous and trying my best. And of course, there’s always the classic, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” question. Why did my aunt, who never smoked, drank, and led a healthy lifestyle get cancer and die at a young age? Why does any young, innocent person get cancer? How come we thank G-D after Kiddush for our meal and it talks about G-D not letting anyone in the world starve? Hello! Kids are starving every day!

One explanation that I can live with is that cancer and starvation were caused by man, and man will eventually find ways to fix these problems because G-D gives us the power to do so. Like all the other illnesses that have plagued our society, we’ll find solutions. It’s hard when I haven’t been in such a dire situation to say whether or not I’d still be this faithful. It’s a hard thing to think about. I’ve had a pretty good life so far, so I think it’s easier for me to be faithful than others who have had hardships. But, maybe, someone with a better life than me is thinking that about me.

Another reason I am not so open about my religious opinions is because, honestly, I don’t want to come off as a zealot. In our society, deeply religious/spiritual people are not always looked upon favorably. I always wonder if people are thinking if I sound like a crazy person when I talk about the warm feeling that hearing the Torah read in Hebrew gives me internally. I can’t even understand what is being said.

For example, people who are devout Muslims or Catholics are very harshly looked upon in our culture. I just think how different people might view my boyfriend’s family if they had crucifixes with Jesus all over their house as opposed to mezuzahs. I know that I might think that’s a little creepy, but that’s just the way I’ve learned to think over the years.

I love the Torah stories, and I believe that the Commandments came from a divine being, but I have problems with a lot of what I’m taught. It’s hard for me to fully express my frustrations since at this point I still consider myself pretty ignorant as to what Jews fully believe. I just know that the more I learn, the more I feel like I’m coming into myself and discovering the person I’ve always been. There is no way that man is alone in this world. I believe there is a force behind it all, but I’m human so I can’t comprehend it or understand it. I call that force G-D. I don’t want to call it Father or ascribe any human characteristics to it. I simply believe that everything has a reason behind it, even if that reason is mysterious to us. But through reading the Torah, I know I’ll find more answers and hopefully, by the end of my conversion process, be able to give my thoughtful readers a little more clarification about my spiritual feelings.

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Good old Lord Byron hit the theme of today’s episode on the nose: “This is the patent age of new inventions for killing bodies, and for saving souls. All propagated with the best intentions.”

Patents, the ownership of ideas in the name of individual financial gain and fame. It is the grill of the artist, the mark of individual success. A US office with the mantra, “To promote the useful arts and sciences,” provides the utopic petri dish in which people are to be properly incentivized to share their ideas and inventions. But does that environment actually exist, or are creatives sitting like Chicago drills, uninspired to (pro)create?

Lone comrades screwed by the system? Where is the Bolshevik class of the creative professionals willing to protect the individuals en masse in this kind of terrain?

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