Post 33: The Cinderella Syndrome

originally created as column 33, December, 2002


Carrie Bradshaw, the protagonist in the t.v. series “Sex and the City” likes shoes and buys them. Expensive ones. Lots of them. High quality shoes. I buy shoes on sale. And for the first time ever she bought shoes in a second hand store on a kibbutz. Cheap. Really cheap. But she used them, and walked with them. And wore them to work. Several times.

I also love to get all dressed up but in Israel people can wear jeans to work as well as out in the evening. Most don’t, but it is hard to find an opportunity to wear an elegant dress. Even at weddings it is less common to see jeans but various styles of pants are common. But I am not an expert on fashion nor do I follow the crowds. And I definitely do not have the style or figure of Carrie Bradshaw. You will not catch me dead with my huge stomach exposed or low cut pants. Thank goodness for the return of high cut pants and the demise of mini skirts. Hemlines are all over the place allowing shortwaisted and not so tall women like me the opportunity to choose whatever length skirt or pants I desire….

And so at work you will see me wearing glasses and casual pants with a twin set, sweater or jacket, I have also been sighted with Bohemian style dresses, pom pom draped shirts or tailored suits. And I have dated men who don only jeans as well as men who have Italian shirts and suits featured in the wardrobe (one whose apartment was filthy but whose suits were meticulous).

And then it happened. Beware. The Bachelors are Back. I tried to meet divorcees. I must give off “stay away” when a divorcee with a child sees me coming. I even had a second date with a divorced non-smoking, guitar playing, educated father of three. And then he disappeared. Yup. Many of my friends and colleagues, some of them having never been married before have married or are dating divorcees with children and I am dating a bachelor.

I could see right from our first date that Ariel knew how to dress. From his shiny pumpkin brown shoes to his ironed brown pants (material unknown but not blue denim), freshly applied aftershave (how he did that when coming straight from work I don’t know), I realized that this was a guy who should appreciate the dresses I have been hiding in my closet.

And then the opportunity arose. He invited me to an end of year party from his workplace. It was winter in Israel, and yet I knew that there would be over 400 people and the place would warm up. What should I wear? Classic long black velvet or a mid length but sexy olive green dress with a V-neck and colored beads framing the hemline? I immediately knew that it had to be the green dress, but I did not know how to deal with the temperature factor until Dafna provided me with the perfect accessories – a drape around green and black scarf, an elegant grey black and white beaded Yemenite style necklace which I matched with delicate greyish-black earrings. I got my hair styled smooth and straight for a change instead of my usual wild curly look and all that was left was makeup, beige stockings without a run and …..shoes.

The inconspicuous four-eyed office employee during the day turned into Cinderella in the evening. And the evening could not have been more perfect. The two week rainstorm had finally come to a halt, my son was sleeping over at a friend’s house and Ariel was coming to pick me up.

From my bitter experience, if something will go wrong, it will go wrong. Usually this involves the car breaking down, the babysitter forgetting which day to show up, a virus or a date’s friend dying or a date getting sick himself. Not even a terrorist attack stopped the evening from starting on time, as planned and I even got some verbal reaction from the handsome but mainly silent bachelor. He took a sort of double take, a half smile and then said “matim lach” – it becomes you. Ha! I thought.. A far cry from the bulky long blue sweater I layered on top of a turtleneck and the frizzy uncombed hair I sported on the sunny but semi-cool day that we met on a hike with a bunch of friends.

So Cinderella and Prince Charming drove in her modern day chariot, a company car she could not afford but drove anyway to the modern day ball – a wedding hall near the beach. As she stepped out of the car, Cinderella lost her slipper. There it was on the ground. Half of her left heel. Of her left shoe. Her second hand shoe. Her elegant and matching but CHEAP left shoe!

Goodbye Cinderella. Back to crisis management Galit…..what to do?

Go barefoot into the events hall (with stockings, not so nice)
Break the other shoe (Might not work – at least I can walk with one normal shoe)
Go home and get another pair of shoes (we were already late and would miss the evening)
Go to next door shopping center and look for shoes (they only sell running shoes)
Go to Home Center and buy glue.

Guess who didn’t bring money with her, or even a credit card that evening? Me. Ariel, thank goodness, the super glue only cost 10 shekels (2 US dollars at the time – 3.5 dollars at the time of this posting in 2008) and the shopping center was still open. The handyman there was very helpful, sanded down the shoe and glued the heel back. He said his father’s dream was always that he be a shoemaker and now I made his dream come true. And he healed the heel. And Prince Charming rescued Cinderella with buying super glue. And the embarrassed Cinderella knew that she would never be a princess, even for an evening as if something is to go wrong, it goes wrong.

But the car had fuel. The flu bug stayed away. The pantyhose didn’t run. The terrorists decided to stay home and get their laundry dry. My son stayed healthy and didn’t run away from his friend’s home.

In fairy tales, the prince gets married to Cinderella after finding her slipper, but in this writer’s life, all she wants to know is….will there be a fifth date???????

Post 32: Sooner or Later

originally created as Column 32, September, 2002

Evan met Ben in the park and told me about him. Divorced, non-smoker, attractive, “anglo-saxon” and good-looking. But he doesn’t like setting people up so he wouldn’t give him my phone number nor him mine. “Look for him on the internet”, he said and told me what site to find him on. I didn’t bother and then a few months later, Ben contacted me on the internet. I sent him pictures, per his request and got not even a thank you. Considering the bachelors and married men who won’t leave me alone, I imagine that I am not that ugly, but for whatever reason (maybe Ben met someone else or got back with an old girlfriend) I never heard from him. Neither did Evan.

Another six months passed until last night. Evan, my son and I went to a music concert where a familiar looking guy started talking to Evan. I realized that it was Ben and winked at Evan. Evan introduced me and asked if we knew each other. We both said “no”. Ben was polite but didn’t seem particularly interested in me. My son tried to gain attention throughout the performance.. Ben disappeared ever so quickly when the performance was over. Sooner or later it was going to happen. Perhaps he was embarrassed at the confrontation. I didn’t get any dates out of confronting the internet man who thought he could escape her screen. My son got to play a rare instrument and be applauded by an audience of 20. A full moon shone with the stars onto the rooftop, and I forgot the threat of terrorists, at least for an hour.

No sex and no future dates, but this writer spent the evening with the two most attractive men in the room on either side of her, even though one was eight-years-old.