Mourners look for solace in numerous methods: some cry, some eat, some screw
For a Yelp forums, the question “where to flirt” in San Francisco ignited a strenuous debate. Jason D. rated funerals once the fifth-best flirting hot spot, beating out pubs and nightclubs. “Whoa, whoa, backup,” reacted Jordan M. “People flirt at funerals? Actually? Huh. I’m uncertain i possibly could off pull that.” That prompted Grace M. to indicate that “the very first three letters of funeral is FUN.”
Several years ago, I had fun after a funeral, at a shiva to be exact before I married. My pal’s mother that is elderly died, and mourners gathered inside her Bronx apartment when it comes to old-fashioned Jewish ritual to exhibit support to surviving loved ones over rugelach. Because of the decidedly unsexy setting—mirrors covered in black colored textile, hushed mourners for a group of white plastic folding chairs—we however discovered myself flirting using the strawberry blonde putting on a black colored gown that still unveiled cleavage that is impressive. Linda (as I’ll call her) and I also commiserated with this shared buddy, but we had as yet not known his mom specially well. We quickly bonded over politics; Linda worked on the go and we usually covered it. As soon as the mourners started filtering away, we decided to share a taxi to Manhattan.
We shortly stopped at a tavern conveniently positioned near Linda’s apartment and ordered shots of whisky to toast our friend’s that are mutual. Though I felt only a little like Will Ferrell’s character Chazz from Wedding Crashers who trolls for females at funerals, we joyfully hustled up to Linda’s spot for an enjoyable one-night stand, a pre-matrimonial notch for a gear we not any longer wear.
The memory of the post-shiva schtup popped up whenever my family and I attended an open-casket viewing to honor David, her friend and colleague.