This poem harks back to a time before dating algorithms and user attribute matching, to an era when romance was left to pure chance. I remember the world of the Jewish singles event painfully well.
The Jewish Singles Do
He said hi
She said hello
He said some grape juice?
There’s red or white
She said no thank you
He said do you know Simon Levy?
She said just to say hello to
He said me too
So did you go to the Young Friendship do
at the Spiro?
She said the tomato tasting?
He said yes
She said no
He said it was so so
Simon Levy was there
She said oh
He said Michelle Cantor was there too
I took her on a blind date once
She said so?
He said not great
She brought her mate.
Anyway what do you do?
She said I specialise in 16th century art at Sotheby’s.
You?
He said I’m in computers.
So is Simon Levy
She said really
He said I like art
You know the ones of the dripping clocks?
She said yes
He said maybe we could discuss them over dinner?
She said maybe
He said my name is Jeremy
She said I know
He said oh?
She said we met a year ago
I was the mate on that date
Don’t you remember?
He said uh oh
Anyway what’s your number?
She said I’ve no phone
He said well
What the hell
Let’s elope
She said nope.
