A view from the other side of the mechitzah

IF

you walk into Pizza Time on the corner of 14th Street and Avenue J at around six-fifteen in the evening, you may happen to see a dapper-looking young man, freshly shaved, sitting alone, perhaps on the phone, over a tray of two slices of pizza.

It’s me. Hi!

I’ve been here before, and I’ll be here again, possibly several times in the same week. If you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m about to go on a date.

I was probably davening Minchah at Landau’s a few minutes ago. It was a smooth drive in from Lakewood (not that I’d say anything else to the girl, even if it wasn’t). There are two fresh water bottles in the cup holders of my car. (Though they may, in fact, be the same water bottles from my date with a different girl, two days ago. True story.) Soon, when I’m back in the car, I’ll disconnect my Bluetooth — can’t have that phone ringing on a date.

You can figure out, if you’re particularly curious, what number date I’ll be going on. If you spot worn-out cufflinks at my wrists, you might as well know that there’s also a tie in my car, and a hat; this is a first date. If the cufflinks are gone, take a peek under the table: Shabbos shoes mean a second date, ordinary loafers a third.

(There rarely is a fourth.)

But that’s all still to come. For now, I’m sitting in the pizza shop, meditating on life.