Today I was a little disgusted to realize that the reason I become a quivering chihuahua every time I glimpse Handsome Lunch Place Man is because he reminds me so much of J, my ex. (Let's just call my ex John for the purposes of this blog. Because it's generic, as in "Doe," and not because it's his real name.)
This man who works on my block -- his slow gait, his large features, his dark complexion, his lame sushi pickup line, even the expression he naturally wears on his face... If John was Jewish, he would be this guy. Jewish John. It's sick, but at least it makes sense now.