If you clicked on this thinking you’re gonna find out an easy way to lose your virginity, you’re right.
But in a very round-about way.
Actually, it’s so round-about it’s not even really connected.
So actually, no, you’re not gonna find out how to easily lose your virginity.
Also, if you’re reading this, you’re probably a friend of mine, or are over the age of 25, and have already lost your virginity.
Which then begs the question…
Why did you click on this?
Some answers…only god can answer.
Which brings me to the real point of this story…
It was a sunny whatever afternoon in 2003
I was a twinkle-eyed little dough ball nearing my big day - my bar mitzvah - the Jewish coming-of-age ritual.
Finally, I’d be a man…at the ripe old age of 13.
Because that’s the age Jews believe you are ready to, well, I guess back in the day, start to, I dunno, become a cobbler…or lawyer…or rabbi.
Whatever.
Anyway so I’m about 9 months away from my bar mitzvah, and, if you didn’t already know, on your bar mitzvah you’re supposed to read a story from the Hebrew bible, in Hebrew, in front of your entire community (in my case around 600 people).
And you have to do it all blindfolded.
No I made that part up.
But still, singing a whole story in Hebrew, ancient Hebrew at that, and flawlessly? No easy feat...
SSSSSSSIKE.
My parents are Israeli and I grew up with Hebrew in the household. Boom.
9 months of study down to 3 months, tops.
So, for an entire 6 months I should have been studying the story, I was instead playing Starcraft and eating chocolate.
The 3-month mark hits and I start studying, and quickly realize I won't be ready for this big day.
The pressure and anxiety get to me, and so I return to doing what I do best - playing Starcraft and eating chocolate.
(And at this point I've evolved from a tubby little dough ball into a fully leavened Cinnabon.)
But a few weeks out from the big day I really start to knuckle down and try to learn as much as possible
I even start to feel pretty confident! 😀
(Which, I’ll soon realize, was false confidence 😞)
It’s the day before my big day…
My Rabbi invites me over for dinner and asks me to recite the story I’m going to read the next day.
He’s a nice guy. Really nice. Old-timey New York Jew. Rough around the edges, but a softie, you know?
I dunno why I felt the need to tell you that. I’m not trying to set him up on a date with you.
But, I dunno. It’s true.
So anyway, he asks me to start reading the story.
I start reading. I fumble and make a mistake. I stop. I look at him. I start reading again. I fumble and stop again. I look at him, again.
This process continues for around 15 minutes (the time it takes to sing/read this story)
Eventually I wrap up reading and take a final look at my Rabbi...
He not anger. He not confuse. But he is a little disappoint.
And I don’t blame him. I didn’t think about it at the time, but looking back now, I didn’t just make myself look bad, I kinda made him look bad as my tutor/educator.
Sorry Aaron.
There’s a silver lining, though...he tells me not to worry and that everything will be fine.
So I go home and sleep off the anxiety for my big day.
It’s the day of my Bar mitzvah…
And I’m at the podium about to read this whole 15-minute long story.
My Rabbi joins me.
Usually, the Rabbi will stand beside the person reading the story with their talit (this Jewish robe thing) with the hood around their neck.
But he’s standing beside me with his talit over his head, somewhat hiding his face from the audience of 600.
Curious…
Well, I start reading/singing.
I’m more nervous than a walrus in an…anti-walrus…protest?
I mean I’m really nervous. I’m sweatin’ bullets here. Forget bullets. I’m sweatin’ missiles! (Forget missiles, love is the answer.)
And so I’m singing, voice all pre-pubescent and cracking on every second word like a damn 56k modem signal.
And then, I get to my first “oh man I don't know how to read this part” moment.
I freeze.
Silence in a room of 600.
Old man coughs. Synagogue pigeon flaps its wings. Rob Schneider tells me I can do it.
And then, like a gift from an angel, the words I couldn’t read are whispered softly in my ear.
...My rough-around-the-edges big ol' softie Rabbi just fed me the line!
The son of a gun helped me cheat he who shall not be named!!! (God, not Voldemort).
I couldn’t believe it.
My bullets of sweat quickly disappeared...
The panic drained from my face, and a cheeky grin appeared in its place, because I knew damn well that this thing was gonna be a cakewalk from here on out.
And so, for the next 15 minutes, my Rabbi helped me bamboozle 600 people into thinking I spent 9 months studying for this big day.
Suckers. All of them.
…No, lovely people.
But I was over the moon that not only I avoided looking like an idiot infront of my entire community, but that I was finally a man in the eyes of god!
(Hehe, malpractice aside).
The bad news? I'm not sure my Rabbi is in god's good books anymore.
You know...on account of helping me defraud all that is divine and whatnot.
Sorry chief.
The morale of the story?
Do the things you love. In my case, Starcraft and chocolate.
Don't over prepare. In fact, don't prepare at all. Someone will save you from your personal crisis when you really need it.
Befriend a Rabbi. They are wise, kind, and sometimes they help you cheat your way into manhood.
And more importantly then anything, don't cater your after party with only 3 vats of butter chicken.
Not everyone loves it as much as you do.
I think that's about it, folks.
Thanks for listening/reading/singing/not practicing how to read and not being able to read this.