Interreligious Dating

Sometimes it just takes a circle of lesbians to make everything feel a little better

Interreligious Dating

Just call them Holidays

I can only speak for myself when I say most people I know don’t think twice about dating someone of a different faith. Usually, when pursuing or being pursued by a girl, my friends have everything on their minds but religion. However, of course some couples of different faiths sometimes struggle to connect on issues of religion. While I have sympathy and the utmost respect for the sensitivity of interreligious dating dilemmas, this is less about that and more about how I love having a Jewish girlfriend. There it is.

Although I went through fourteen years of Catholic schooling, I am not Catholic, but I do believe in a higher power, wherever She is. My girlfriend is Jewish, and I love it. For me this means learning Yiddish, attending services at the local Hillel on high holidays and lighting the menorah. (I’ve had to Google like five words already). Growing up in both New York and South Florida, I am no stranger to you Jews. You are my neighbors, my best friends, my bakers. Now you are my girlfriend, and so only now am I getting to know the more intimate parts of you. The interesting thing about participating in the traditions of other religions and cultures is feeling so new to rituals that have been taking place for so long. It’s interesting to feel yourself navigating through such established ceremonies for the first time. Wait! Before you get bored and dismiss this as a holier than thou rant, please note that me feeling myself navigating through an established ceremony was me feeling myself starving after deciding I’d be the best girlfriend ever if, in solidarity, I too abstained from eating on Yom Kippur.

I was a nightmare all day. It was awful. My plan went all wrong. Instead of cruising through the day like a supportive champ, I kicked and cried (I think I did actually cry) and sassed my way to sun down. But at the end of the day, as we scarfed down vegan noodle kugel and got drunk on Manischewitz, I knew it had brought us closer and that participating in that holiday was an experience I would later write about.

Tonight, as I walked to my girlfriend’s house, a bottle of cheap red wine in one hand and a menorah in the other, I couldn’t help but feel excited to take part in Hanukkah, the festival of lights. This means I unsuccessfully lit the candles. I never do it in the right order and I never remember the whole prayer. But hey, she’s happy that I share and I’m happy that she’s happy. L’Chaim. To Life.

I guess I lucked out with a Jewish girl. There are much tougher eggs to crack.