Chase (v): To follow rapidly in order to catch (this could pertain to my career), to go and follow in pursuit (I think I’ll assign this to love)

I wish I had a PhD in life, unfortunately I don’t. It’s a hard thing to do and being an independent woman in Boston doesn’t make it any easier; I’m a triple A, work till I drop, laugh a lot because I can, walk fast, talk fast kinda girl. I do it all and I do it in 5 inch heels.

You would think navigating a career and a new relationship while breaking the age barrier of 30 would be as easy as getting home in a timely manner during a sox-yankees series (this ladies and gents is sarcasm at its finest). However it is not and I am stumbling through this cray cray life one day at a time with a iPhone in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

These are my daily musings; my everyday observations. I am here to rave, rant , tell my stories and perhaps laugh at those times when wine and over priced shoes, tears just aren’t enough.

So what happens after you caught Prince Charming? You could say I’m still Chasing Boston.

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Episode 14: Jew….ish

“Don’t you think you are being insensitive?”
(There it was, the last 3 months had lead us to this place and I was sitting on the edge of a very uncomfortable couch taking in all I could handle…)

“I mean, maybe you forgot, but I’m Jewish”
(Actually I didn’t forget that you were Jewish, maybe you did since I had to provide direction on the proper placement of candles in your menorah…but whatevs)

“Let me remind you of this little event called the HOLOCAUST!!”
(How was I going to compete with this one?)

I had that conversation exactly 36 hours before our plane to Munich was to be "wheels up". I had been looking at my passport for the last week and planning out my wardrobe selections for our trip, a trip that was a surprise get-a-way, planned by non other than him, when my phone rang and Mr. Ish in a frantic tone asked me to caucus over our impending travel and “my inability to commit to someone of his stature”….whatever that meant.

The next 3 hours was a circular discussion about how we never hold hands, how I’m insensitive, and how he just couldn’t go on in this “abusive relationship” any longer. I, in a surprisingly quiet manner asked where this was coming from, and the response that I got was grossly obnoxious; apparently a month ago we were shopping for dinner; he suggested pork and I, like the amazing chef I believe myself to be suggested a pancetta and apple compote……

The room fell silent. I’m not following along I said. In fact I’m confused because that was an AH.MAZ.ING suggestion on my end and poaching those apples in the brandy was really my culinary genius reaching its peak…his hand raised up and stopped me, “It's not kosher Courtney” that was the issue.
“The Pancetta?”
“No, The pork”
“You suggested the Pork!”
“Did you for a second think that maybe I shouldn’t eat the pork because it’s NOT kosher”
“Ho.Lee.Shit!….you’re not kosher”

The point, he explained to me was that I didn’t ask. I did not ask him if he may want to be aware that he was suggesting we partake in a food in which he would be disrespecting his religion and his family, and in his eyes, he could never be with someone who didn’t take this into account. This was a test he said to me…and you failed, just like you failed the Munich test; furthermore I would appreciate it if you left.

I stood up and compiled the most eloquent set of lexicons that I could think of in that situation;
And I would appreciate an Academy nomination for the demanding and time consuming reprise role of Girl 1 in “Fake Orgasm" part 1-34 also, don’t take this the wrong way, because I respect you…but go fuck yourself, unless that’s not kosher…I’ll see myself out (cue hair flip)

As the elevator descended down, I was minus one key on my key chain and plus one first class ticket to Germany.


  1. And just what is this guy's "stature"? I'm dying to know.

  2. There are things in this world that I will never figure out.