FICTION:
I was covering the Adult Entertainment Expo in Las Vegas and I ran into my Torah teacher.
I looked around for a place to hide and though the bosoms were big, they were not enough to cover me.
“What are you doing here?” my teacher asked.
“Journalistic reasons,” I said. “I’m a humble servant of the truth.
“To do good, first you have to know what you’re fighting.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to make contacts. Have you heard of the Neal Strauss book, The Game: Penetrating the Secret Society of Pickup Artists?”
“I have.”
“I’m now a pick-up artist. I teach seminars to guys on how to meet beautiful women. I have an internet business to go with it. You should send me traffic. You can make up to $100 for each name on your list.”
I’d met my teacher at temple in 1997. He was handsome, happy and successful. He was married with kids. He was a full-time writer and he taught Torah on the side, just for the love of it.
I wanted to be like him. He was quick and funny. He had piercing insights. He was a wonderful conversationalist.
I always thought he was out of my league.
In one of our first chats, he told me about Rolling Stone’s recent Speed Seduction article about Ross Jeffreys.
He thought it was hilarious.
I thought, “That is just what I need.”
I finally got my hands on the piece and it was fascinating. But I was too lazy and shy about implementing it. I’d heard my rebbe, Dennis Prager, teach that it is forbidden to fool with people’s feelings. That you can’t play with words to get laid.
Still, this forbidden knowledge intrigued me.
I enrolled in several of my teacher’s classes at one of L.A. Jewry’s most illustrious institutions.
The years went by. His women rolled by… My sins multiplied…
And now here we were.
“You won’t write about this, will you?” he said.
“No,” I promised.
