"If I wanted to say something, I literally had to interrupt her. And the instant I finished talking she took off again"

Shani Leiman with Zivia Reischer

Betzalel, or Tzali as he was called by his friends, was a good dater. He knew how to talk to a girl — how to make her feel comfortable, how to start the conversation, how to maintain the rhythm of give and take for an extended amount of time. This came with the territory; at 28, he’d dated well over 70 girls.

He called me, as he usually did, about an hour after his first date with Avigail.

“How did it go?” I asked.

There was a moment’s pause. “It was a little weird,” he admitted.

Avigail was a pretty typical girl — second-to-oldest of five, did well in school, went to a good seminary, finishing her degree as an OT. I didn’t know her so well, but I wouldn’t have expected anything “weird.”

“Can you tell me about that?”

“Well,” he said, “from the minute she got into the car, she didn’t stop talking. She talked and talked the entire date! I wanted to ask her if she preferred the Marriot or the Hilton, but I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. When I did get the chance to make a comment or ask a question, she launched into a 20-minute response.

“If I wanted to say something, I literally had to interrupt her. And the instant I finished talking she took off again. It was like she wanted me to know everything about her right now. She didn’t make any effort to learn anything about me.”

“Wow,” I said. “That sounds… intense.”

“I have no idea what that was all about,” Tzali said wearily, “but I’m totally drained. I need to go to sleep.” He paused, then added, “I don’t think I should see her again.”