I'm Thinking About Seeing the Rabbi

In the wise words of my mother, "A witty sense of humour and your tremendous package won't get you anywhere. You need to have a brain too, honey". My mum never knew the internet, but I'm pretty sure that ageless advice doesn't hold true anymore. At the time, I replied "Why not? It's sure getting Bobby places, and he's not even funny".
I recently came across a list I made a few years ago of all the women who have turned me down. I updated the list, and was reminded of a conversation I used to have as a teenager with my mum. Here is the basic content of said conversation:

"I know there's not very many nice Jewish girls here, but you have to stop shtupping the shiksas. Rabbi Weinstein says he's concerned".
"What does he know"?
"He says he's seen you in the street with the shiksas".
"Bobby's shtupping. I'm not shtupping".
"Are you fagle"?
"No Ma! I'm not fagle. I hang out with girls. Doesn't that tell you that I like girls"?
"You're not shtupping"?
"No".
"Why not? Your shmeckle is very nice".
"You just told me to stop with the shtupping".
"I meant that you should stop with the shiksas".
"So it's okay to shtup a Jewish girl"?
"Bubee, I didn't say that. But you have to find one first".
"Ma! Nobody's shtupping"!
"You just said Bobby's shtupping".
"Why are we talking about Bobby? I thought you said the rabbi was worried about me. I have to do algebra".
"Sit. I want you should eat something".
"Bubee, Mr. and Mrs. Gold have a daughter..."
I sputtered over my soup, "Tina?! She's like, ten years old Ma".
"I'm just saying Sweetie, it might be nice to send good wishes at her bat mitzvah".
"Please. Fifteen year old boys do not go to ten year old girls' bat mitzvahs".
"You went to your cousin's bat mitzvah".
"And my sister came to my briss. What's your point"?
"If you want, pick one shiksa and bring her for dinner. We'll introduce her, and if she is interested, maybe she'll convert".
"I think it's a little early for that. Maybe you should wait until girls are older, like eighteen or twenty".
"It'll be too late then, bubee. What about any of the girls at your bar mitzvah"?
"My bar mitzvah? You mean Bobby's bar mitzvah".
"Well you were there".
"I had to bring a gift to my own bar mitzvah! What kind of bar mitzvah is that"?
"Bubee. Bubee. You know how things were. You and Bobby are twins. I could only afford a bar mitzvah for one of you".
"It was Bobby's mitzvah, not mine".
"Okay, what about the girls at Bobby's bar mitzvah"?
"There were two and Bobby shtupped them both".
"Now now bubee. Is that a bad thing? You should bring one for dinner".
"Ummmmmmm, no".
"I'll still love you if you're fagle".
"Ma! I'm not a fagle. I just don't want to bring home one of Bobby's girlfriends".
"I'll find you a nice girl. What about Jennifer Cohen? She's your age".
"She's waiting for a dentist".
"You could be a dentist".
"No Ma. I want to be a speech therapist".
"Sylvia Green"?
"Oncologist".
"Barbara Thomas"?
"Her parents are shmoozing a guy at Columbia who wants to go into neurology".
"Is that anything like a speech therapist"?
"Ma"!
"Rachel Gorstein is going off to Brandeis".
"That's a slight exaggeration, she's seventeen. They haven't accepted her yet".
"You could make Rachel a very happy girl, Bubee. A nice older woman for you".
"Rachel is going to the senior prom with Moe Weissman".
"And after"?
"Okay. I'll ask Rachel after her prom, but I'm kinda young for her".
"What's not to like about you"?

And it really just goes on from there. I never got a chance to ask Rachel Gorstein home for dinner. I guess I just kinda forgot to ask. So here I am so many years later confronted by a long list of rejections and I'm thinking I should seek some advice from Rabbi Weinstein. My mum told him I was fagle when I was seventeen, so now I've got to have this whole conversation (or something similar) with him. Oy!

Shalom