Post 27: The Ex-Girlfriends' Club

originally created as Column Twenty-Seven, August, 2001

The Ex-Girlfriends' Club

You’ve probably seen the movie “The First Wives' Club”. Goldie Hawn, Diane Keaton and Bette Middler get together in protest of their ex husbands disposing them for younger and less intelligent “replacements”. I met my ex-boyfriend’s first girlfriend at a party he held Thursday night. His ex-wife wasn’t there, but his present girlfriend, Marilyn, his ex-girlfriend (me) and his first girlfriend (Rachel) after his divorce were all in his apartment, along with about 14 other women and only 4 men.

Don, it seems, likes to be around as many women as possible and invites men to his parties only to be politically correct. When he does go out with a girlfriend, he is sexually faithful to her but when he goes out to events without her, he conveniently hides the fact that he has a girlfriend. I heard about Rachel for years and she had heard about me but even though the invitation she gave to Don was intended to be for both of us, he remembered to introduce me to her, indeed around the time of her birthday, but 4 years later. I suppose it was just another one of his habits of being chronically late. I’ve heard about surface mail, but this birthday invitation seems to have been sent literally by snail mail. Surprisingly or not, Rachel and I got along extremely well and Marilyn was probably happy that we were speaking to each other and not trying to steal attention from Don. It was probably the hottest night of the year and I didn’t stay long between the heat and thinking about how much I would have to pay the babysitter.

I didn’t really expect to meet any potential dates but I was too curious to pass up the opportunity. One of Don’s ex girlfriends did not arrive – she was a girlfriend before he was married, so I suppose she didn’t really fit into the “First Ex-Girlfriend’s Club” as we belonged to the post-divorce age in Don’s life. In one of the episodes of “Sex in the City”, Carrie is invited to a party where everyone is asked to bring someone that they are not dating and it becomes an ex partner party. This party was along the same lines, only we weren’t told to bring an ex-boyfriend and that is why the numbers were so uneven. So of course, no sex that night, unless some those women were same sex couples. That is not a step that I am prepared to take, as I wouldn’t change my sexual orientation just in order to get past the fourth date.

So Don was with Marilyn, and I was left to charm Rachel. Maybe it was better that there were no men to turn me on, as it was hot enough already. Maybe I’ll invite 2 women, 10 men and all my ex boyfriends to my birthday party next year. Most of them don’t have custody of their children so at least they won’t have to get a babysitter for that evening.

This writer didn’t meet any new men at Don’s party, but she did meet a first girlfriend. And what was this writer's true measure of a successful party.....? .... she even found a vacant, free parking spot in the heart of Tel Aviv, right across the street from Don’s apartment.

Post 26: Clothespins, Poppyseeds and Headguests

originally created as Column twenty-six, June, 2001

Clothespins, Poppyseeds and Headguests

Since post twenty-four I’ve opened up a few more doors, actually had three dates with the same guy and frankly feel a little ambivalent. I’ve noticed a few peculiar things over the last six years, since my separation. First of all, men are like clothespins. All the sturdy, stable ones seem to get away and you are left with the imperfect ones. The socks must fall off with the clothespins, as it is a well-known fact that there are more single socks than single women. Washing machines are a well-known eater of socks, but where do they go once they are eaten?

So after you lose so many clothespins, you have to go shopping for more, and there never seem to be enough. Do they feel like they are going on dates when the laundry is being hung out? I mean there they are being hung out on a line in the middle of nowhere, having to fend for themselves. As well as supporting their own weight, they have to hold up wet laundry and hope that pigeons don’t mess with them. Some of the good quality pins do stay around, but they are a rare, faithful kind.

Speaking of laundry, I had a boyfriend for three years who basically saw my son grow up. Don met me when my son was only 2 and still in diapers. Despite the differences Don and I shared, I valued his tolerance of putting up with disgusting diapers. How was I to know that you don’t feed poppyseed hamantaschen (oznei haman) to a 2 year old boy, that poppyseed is something only older children can tolerate? Don was patient but nonetheless relieved when my son was FINALLY toilet trained only a month before his fourth birthday. Also at age 3, Don tolerated visitors of a different variety – head lice. I completely lost it when the daycare worker broke the news to me, but Don helped me comb out those little buggers and I have been fortunate not to buy lice killing shampoo for 3 and a half years until.....THEY’RE BACK.

It is 2 am and I am not having mad passionate sex with my imaginary boyfriend. I am combing head lice out of my hair, and this is all because my (blogger's note: at the time this post was created, my son was 7 - in 2008 he is 14) 7 year old son loves to hug his classmates. Only in Israel can I be dodging bombs one morning and combing hair lice out of my hair another night. Who knows, if perfume doesn’t attract men, then maybe the smell of this shampoo will work? What happens if on the fourth date, (if I get reach the fourth date) my “number 3 man” will want to stroke my hair? Do I tell him the truth and risk turning him off for life and turning this column into “Absolutely No Sex in the City Forever?”

This writer wishes that the little black things on her scalp were simply poppyseeds.