The Nice Jewish Boy

When I was 12 years old, awkward and flat-chested, my Dad made a speech for me at my Batmitzvah. He told me that he wouldn’t mind if I married a goatherd as long as I was happy. Of course after the party my Mum had to clarify to me that there was no fucking way I’m doing that, unless of course he’s Jewish.

The pressure to marry an NJB (Nice Jewish Boy) has existed in almost every North West London Jewish girls life for as long as they can remember. An NJB is a very specific character, otherwise known as every kvelling Jewish mother’s dream for their children. An NJB lives somewhere nice like Hendon, Edgware or Hampstead. He goes to a ‘nice’ school like UCS and a ‘nice’ University like Birmingham where he nicely goes to JSOC every week, when not at shul of course. Regardless of our parents high expectations, the reality of your average Jewish boy is a far cry from this description.

Instead what’s offered to us is a selection of guys with as much substance as a soggy knedilach. In reality your typical ‘NJB’ spends his time watching football, eating shwarma, masturbating or playing FIFA. 

Aside from this through the inevitability of all Jews knowing each other, some begin to believe themselves as ‘BNOCs’ elevating themselves to a fully imaginary level of fame.

“No Doug, I know your name because we went to school together, not because you’re a Jewish Tom Cruise. Please take your Jaegerbomb elsewhere.”

Aside from this ridiculous arrogance that comes from being able to bench press as much as the average Asian child, Jewish boys of our time have become vain beyond belief. It’s as if they have seen their JAP sister’s hair and makeup selection and just got a little jealous and curious. Considering the amount of Jewish boys who straighten their hair and sunbed more often than my house of 8 girls put together, it’s hard to get that turned on.

The social patterns of Jewish 20-somethings almost mirrors being at a Batmitzvah or a meet and greet. Whether I’m in Crisis or Jalouse I’ll see the same Jewish faces approach me in their gorgeous suits and absurdly groomed eyebrows, kiss me on both cheeks, tell me I look nice and then invariably ask me for a cigarette. Like clockwork.

I’m not implying that all Jewish boys are this bad, there actually happen to be a lot that are great. There are countless Jewish boys all over Nottingham, London, Birmingham and Manchester that are sweet, generous, funny and down to earth. In spite of this however, it’s hard to see the nice ones with all the douchebags clouding up the water. And let’s be honest with ourselves, the nice ones are ALL in the friendzone.

So the real question is, why are we supposed to marry Jewish boys?

Of course our mothers, grandmothers and all their friends will shoot down this question with nonsensical babbling about kashrut and the Holocaust, at which point you’re not allowed to say anything without sounding like a neo-Nazi. 

Although always raised this way, I’ve never found myself limited to Jewish guys. In fairness one of the last guys I dated wasn’t Jewish…but he was gay so maybe he would’ve been happy with an NJB.

I’d never considered the idea of this pressure to marry a Jewish boy, until of course one of my best friends said she wasn’t planning to. I heard this familiar drilling come out my mouth that felt like I was possessed by my grandma. “What if you want a kosher home? What about Shabbat dinner? What about your kids Barmitzvah? What if you want to send them to JFS?”

It suddenly occurred to me that there is something nice about being with a Jewish boy, it’s familiar and they’re raised the same way as you. This doesn’t mean to say however that the comfortable option is always the right one. I’ve been lucky enough to find a few NJBs to date, but that doesn’t mean that my last long term boyfriend wasn’t a total asshole.

I guess we just have to play Russian Roulette with these Kosher pickles, and if there’s nothing for us walk away from the table. After all, everyone likes a little bacon whether they admit it or not.

Hope you enjoyed the read,

Olivia Jane