Fried Green Tomatoes

I had coffee with a mere male the other day. He ordered a ‘Local Salad’ from Café Hillel. It comes with Smoked Salmon and other general salad staples including tomatoes. By the end of the time allocated to our sorti – I noticed that he had left all the tomatoes on the side.
I questioned “Do you not like tomatoes?”
He responed “No, I don’t really care for them. Do you?”
I replied automatically “I love them with basil, for example in Bruschetta.”

I had a flash forward of my life without tomatoes: In summer the thought of not serving Gespatcho soup for Shabbat Lunch was outrageous. What about Sun-Dried Tomatoes on the Anti-Pasto plate at Pesach? Tomatoe salad for Shabbat lunch. Minnestrone soup in Winter. Tomatoe Sauce with potatoe wedges. Tomoatoes in Israeli salad. Fried tomatoes with an omelette on a Sunday morning….Tomatoes in pasta sauce! The list goes on…

It was at this precise moment that I realised that it’s never ever gonna work out with this guy…I think we will always be friends but…

Even though I had waited 4 months for him to come to Israel to see me, and I had said no to any other relationship in the meantime.
Even though when he offered me NO support last week when I was sick and my grand-mother had died.
Even though he had said to me that he was too immature for a commitment, when I had never even mentioned the word.
Even though I believed him when he said he would miss me.
Even though I can’t believe he is only down the road but I know he won’t come over and give me a hug when I need it.
Even though he has never played the ‘Yichus’ game with me (similar to jewish Geography but you try and out do the other person by stating who is the oldest famous/respected Rebbe that your family is related to)
Even though he has done everything to make me hate him in the past week.

It dawned on me that we are just not meant for each other because if he doesn’t eat tomatoes, I guess he just isn’t a real man…(How would we travel Italy?).

For all those conversations that I have to suffer through alluding to the fact that I don’t have a boyfriend perhaps because I really have horns or I am an alien or something…at least I can now say that it is because I can’t be seen with someone who can’t eat tomatoes.

I guess it’s one of those personal hashgafot that you don’t realise is not negotiable until it unfolds in front of your eyes…

It's Mabo, it's the Constitution, it's the vibe.