Post 70: Cinderella on Chanukah

Cinderella on Chanukah

Chanukah did not start festively at all for me this year. Unemployed, no car, no boyfriend. I even lost my friend with benefits who started to see someone else and suggested we return to being “just friends”. The timing could not be worse in Israel. Winter is the season when it’s colder inside than it is outside. To warm up, I sleep with 4 blankets, 3 stuffed animals and a partridge in a pear tree ….ooops, wrong religion…

Back to Chanukah. It started with a medical procedure that took a whole morning, drugged me out and left me completely exhausted for the entire evening. I insisted that my son go to accept his father’s invitation to light the first candle and sleep overnight. As Murphy law has it, my bed stays empty when my son is away, which is why this blog is called No Sex in the City. It just doesn’t happen when you want it to happen.

In this case, partially dehydrated and partially stoned with valium (can you be stoned with valium or only with hashish? I don’t know because I am a good girl and law-abiding person, who always stayed away from drugs except for the occasional glass of wine). I did once have laughing gas for a tooth extract. It just occurred to me that there may be some religious people taking a look at this blog, and I promised that it was “clean” with no pornography, so how did I allow drugs to creep in here?

But then again Gilit may be my pen name, but she is allowed to do things that I have not. In fact, when someone recently reminded me about Boris in Russia, I forgot that he was real. It seems that when he told me that he would no longer write to me and shut me out of his life, I wrote about him and committed him to fiction as well. Wow, he was real? He really did say that he loved me, even though my definition of love (stay tuned for a post about the meaning of love) is quite different from his. If you really love someone, you are not going to forget them even if they do not love you back.

I’ve strayed away from Chanukah, so let me go back to that first night. There I was alone, tired, dehydrated, and generally mixed up. My adoptive mother was dying in a Tel Aviv hospital (from cancer) and I knew it was a matter of days before the inevitable phone call. At 10:30 am the next morning, my cellphone rang. Now everyone knows that I am either hiking or asleep on a Saturday morning. Or else I have religious friends who don’t use the phone on Shabbat in any case. Therefore, I knew exactly why the phone was ringing. This time it wasn’t the valium or a dream, but the real thing. “Mom is gone”, Dafna announced, in a matter of fact voice.

And so began my Chanukah. I helped Dafna put up the death notices in her neighborhood. It’s good to know that the municipality gives out scotch tape together with the signs. That’s one less thing to buy before a funeral, I guess. I didn’t cry much that day and neither did Dafna. I guess we thought that her mother was still in the hospital and we’d see her soon. Or maybe in the shower. Or sneaking another cigarette in the kitchen before joining us for a cup of coffee.

On Monday I had to sign into the unemployment bureau and then meet my son on the bus on the way to the cemetery. Nice day for a funeral. Dafna’s mother was a former school principal and didn’t want children to miss school on her behalf. So she died during a school holiday. My son was not impressed. Last year he ate up all the latkes she had made and he promised to bake a batch himself to bring to the Passover seder. This year, none of us baked latkes. Dafna lit Chanukah candles and a memorial candle. Instead of buying a plant to bring to the family dinner at her house, I brought a plant to her graveside. I wanted to sing James Taylor’s “Fire and Rain” at the funeral, but there was no way I would be able to get the words out. Instead the rain spoke for itself from the sky (but spared us at the funeral) and the fire came from the candles which I continued to light each night.

Since I wasn’t sitting shiva, I was determined to find a glimmer of hope during the holiday. On Wednesday, I got another rejection from a job interview, but I wasn’t sad. Now it was all clear to me. The funeral was over. The shiva was almost over. And now I had no excuse but to get on with my life. Land that job. Find a boyfriend. Buy a new car (or get a leased one from work).

So I braved a sandstorm and met a friend in Tel Aviv who was studying makeup and used me as a guinea pig. Actually, I trusted her completely and she created a Cinderella. Even though my train got stuck (Israeli trains are NOT Swiss trains) and I had to get out of the train and take a bus home, I was determined to forget about the funeral, my unemployment, and my lack of boyfriend, and get NOTICED at a Chanukah party.

And so I did. It was unbelievable. Men who didn’t give me the time of day were asking me to dance. Women who forgot my name came across the room to talk to me. No one seemed to remember me from the year before. It didn’t matter that I was unemployed, had just been at a funeral, or didn’t have a car. What mattered was that I was now almost a blonde and that I had a personal makeup artist turn me into another person.

It felt a bit like the old days when I was an amateur actress. I was in the limelight (even literally, as I was wearing a green dress) for the evening, but at the end of the day, when the audience went home, my theatrical mask got removed and it was only me. At the end of the night, no Prince Charming rescued my slipper.

Perhaps because this writer was wearing boots.

Post 69: Historical and Religious Land of Israel: Year Round Tourist Destination

I’ve lived in Israel for more than half my life, and rarely take it for granted. I relish in the vast variety of natural, historical and religious sites that this country possesses. For those of you who don’t live here, I’d recommend checking out Flights to Tel Aviv which is a good place to visit and enjoy the beaches, night life, museums, art galleries, and dance performances. Hebrew, Arabic and English are the official languages of Israel, but you can get along with Russian, French, or Spanish. If you want to leave politics and religion behind, stay in Tel Aviv, whereas if you’re a religious and historical buff, you can spend your entire vacation in Jerusalem, a holy city for Christians, Jews, and Muslims alike. Whichever city you choose in central Israel as your home-base, you’ll be thrilled to know that the scenery changes constantly, and you can make a lot of day trips reaching scenic destinations within an hour or two by car as diverse as deserts, waterfalls (both in northern and southern Israel), pine forests (Galilee), and prehistoric caves (Carmel). You can visit the world famous Dead Sea, the lowest point on earth, or venture off the beaten track to Machtesh Ramon, a breathtaking geological formation resembling a crater. My favorite time to hike is in the spring when the wildflowers are in bloom, but there is no shortage of things to see and do, depending on your interests, no matter what time of the year you visit.

This writer has lived in Israel for more than 22 years and still has not seen it all.

* sponsored post

Post 68: Closing the blinds

Post 68: Closing the Blinds


This post is based on a story told to me by one of my single friends.

Gad recently moved out of his girlfriend's house and had not been dating in years. He wasn't signed up on any of the dating sites yet, but, as he is a man, his friends immediately started to set him up once the word was out that he was "available" again.

Gad didn't know that there were best practices for blind dates. First of all, the date, Limor, cancelled a few times before they actually met. She never sent him a picture by email...but then again neither did he, but she sounded nice enough, and he knew that he had to take the plunge. After cancelling twice, she finally called him and they set a place and time to meet, half way between their homes, at a scenic restaurant overlooking a nature reserve in northern Israel.

I already warned Gad not to base his evening around this date, because if it was good, they would be tempted to go on talking all night..and jump to things perhaps too soon and not very gentlemanly....but if it was bad, the evening would still be free, and both Gad and Limor could do something "normal" that was not a blind date.

They finally met one afternoon and Gad felt nothing. He wasn't attracted physically and the conversation did not flow. But he made the mistake of picking her up in his car and driving her home afterwards. Plus she had his home number and he had hers. He did not want to see her again and made that clear...that is, he didn't say he had a good time and did not ask her when she was free. Phew, all well's that end's well....so he thought.

The next day Gad heard strange sounds coming from his telephone while driving. "A text message", he thought, and continued driving, enjoying the new music he had downloaded. A few days later the strange sounds were emitted again, but Gad's phone was turned off, so he couldn't figure it out. Was it from the radio? His new MP3 player?

When he got home, he looked under the car seats, and sure enough, there it was. Limor's phone. He would now have to call her. The problem was that she no longer had a cellphone so coordinating the return of the phone would be difficult. He drove by her home one evening but she didn't answer her home phone. I suppose he could have dropped the phone in her mailbox, but for some reason, that didn't happen.

Although Limor had already cancelled the phone service, the actual phone was expensive, so she still wanted it back. Gad had a busy month at work and was not going to be near her city again. So Limor dropped by Gad's house one evening. Gad had his sons visiting (who were not thrilled to know that he was already dating so soon after the breakup from his recent girlfriend whom they liked very much), as well as some guests. Gad was busy with a work-related call in another room, and asked his son and guests to keep Limor entertained. Her phone was in his car, so he would have to leave his house and give the phone to her.

When Gad entered the living room, he couldn't believe his eyes. Limor suddenly was made up, her hair was dyed a different color and she had lost 5 kilos. Wrong! Limor was just as unattractive as the first time and... it gets worse. Instead of waiting patiently in the doorway or seated quietly while Gad was finished with his business, she was walking around the living room of his house (did I mention this was the FIRST time in his house?) straightening out his pictures on the wall!

Gad escorted Limor to his car as quickly as possible and gave her back her phone. This blind date ended up into a few-week long relationship that he did not plan or want.

This writer wants men to know that when it comes to getting rid of blind dates, remember that you're not always off the hook.

Post 67: Let Your Fingers Do the Walking

The Jewish new year has formally arrived. Reflecting back on this year, I realize that I definitely broke my own self-inflicted rules this year. I dated a guy who smoked. I dated a guy whose divorce wasn't yet final. I dated a guy who lived in a different country. I dated a guy with a different religion than mine. I dated a guy without children. I dated a guy with children who had never been married. I even dated a guy who claimed to have seen aliens.

If you haven't figured it out by now, I went beyond my comfort zone. Until now, my comfort zone led me to fun relationships but also to broken hearts and lots of used kleenex, not to mention extra visits to psychologists and doctors, and yes, a loss of a girlfriend who just had no patience for my adventure. I forget sometimes that is better to write than to talk, even though writing lets me change the truth and censor some of the juicy stuff.

Did you actually think that everything I wrote here was true? It's actually the stranger things here that are true. But what does it really matter? I carefully protect the identity of those real characters in these posts. I probably should be more careful of my own identity, but one day I'll reveal the truth. In this small country, it's not so hard to figure out.

After THE breakup, it was obvious to me that I wouldn't meet the love of my life immediately. I needed to play the field, meet lots of different people, and get to know myself again, or get to know myself for the first time. I've met amazing men and women - some have remained good friends while others disappointed me, or I disappointed them. There is no black and white in friendship between women or men.

But after going out on a variety of dates, I can honestly say that I'm tired of the "almost" men - the great love who smokes, the drop-dead gorgeous guy who doesn't believe in foreplay, the devoted father who doesn't really have time to see me, the fun friend who can't say he loves me cause he's waiting for that "wow" click....they're all great guys, but I want my rules back. I want a divorced guy with children, who doesn't want anymore children, is my age or younger, passionate, employed, romantic and is not afraid to say that he loves me....and lives in Israel or course....and it would definitely be an added bonus if he could carry a tune or play an instrument, as I have a weakness for musicians.

So why not fantasize? I had almost a year to get over the breakup. It's my turn now for the real thing, right? Fate had it that I couldn't meet up with my friend with benefits (that sounds SO much nicer than fuck buddy, doesn't it?) and ended up going out to a concert with a girlfriend. The women at the concert were about ten years younger than me, thinner, and many childless.....you would think that would put me at a disadvantage....at first I seemed invisible. Lots of members of the audience were couples, smiley and cuddly... no outward signs of stress from staying up all night with a teething baby or wondering what time of night their teenager will bring home their other car....or wondering how to pay the mortgage on their garden apartment in the suburbs....

and then I saw the youngest and cutest girl in the audience. She was eleven. And she had a dad. Who was alone. And acknowledged my existence. And even played the piano. There, my prince had arrived. The end to my searching...here, among all the young bachelors. "Don't talk too much Gilit. Don't talk too much. Don't ask him too many questions. Smile, but don't be pushy. Listen. Watch".

And so I did. The break was over and he got up to play. The piano. My first instrument. I waited in anticipation to see if he played as nicely as he treated his daughter. From the audience, I didn't have to worry about staring at him, as he wouldn't notice with the stage lights on and the audience lights dimmed. I could comfortably glance at him for the distance, starting with his smile, and then down to the keyboard where I could closely watch his finger-work. My mind drifted to a different form of "let your fingers do the walking" as I imagined him taking my phone number after I complimented him on his piano-playing, of our trips together with his daughter and my son, and of not having to go on a blind date again.

My eyes drifted down to his right hand and musical savvy, and then watched his left hand to see how he managed with his accompaniment.

I didn't feel so bad when the piano player did NOT ask me for my telephone number. Thanks to the stage spotlight, there it was - the finger accessory this writer hadn't noticed when the musician first sat next to his daughter - his wedding ring.

Post 66: Not Exactly Aleksandr Petrovsky

I've been writing the columns that predated this blog since 2000, and sometimes I feel as though I have played every character in the series "Sex and the City", except that I'm chubbier, poorer, and don't wear brand names, to mention a few differences.....

I met Boris in 2000, through a Jewish dating site, and traveled with him and my son a bit in Israel, when he was visiting from Russia. I knew that he was quite taken with me even then, but I did not want to have a "fling" with him in Israel. At the time, I would have gotten too attached and it would have bothered me from going out with other guys. However, we kept in touch throughout the years by email, and I was proud of him as he advanced in his career path, which I won't detail here so as to protect his privacy.

He kept inviting me to visit him in Russia and I refused for one or more of the following reasons:

1. I had a boyfriend
2. I couldn't leave my son
3. I didn't have enough vacation from work

Year after year, I repeated the same excuses until the following happened:

1. I no longer had a boyfriend
2. My son was old enough to stay overnight by himself or with friends and/or with his father
3. I was unemployed...therefore with LOTS of vacation from work.

Boris spoke and wrote excellent English and his communication was loud and clear. "We can be friends or we can have romance while you are here. Whatever you decide, I will respect you".

Great, I thought. I warned him that I snored. I thanked him for his honesty. I was glad that we cleared this up before, and I hinted that I thought we would "get along well" while we were there. I remembered that he was attracted to me and I remembered that I was indifferent - that I was not turned off, but not head over heels. Not exactly Aleksandr Petrovsky, the Carrie’s Russian boyfriend played by Mikhail Baryshnikov in the sixth season of Sex and the City.

So I flew for a week to Moscow.

I paid for the flight, but Boris insisted on paying for everything else, even if I had chosen to avoid physical contact. He met me at the airport and drove with me and a driver to his apartment. As we got out of the elevator, he told me to be quiet, so as not to wake the others. “What others?”

Turns out that Moscow is one of the most expensive cities in the world, not because of the price of food or paper goods (which I found considerably less expensive than in Tel Aviv), but because of housing. So Boris, despite being successful in his career, was waiting for his apartment in the suburbs to be completed, and in the meantime, rented a room in central Moscow. The other room was rented out to three nannies from the Ukraine.

“You didn’t tell me you had flatmates”, I told Boris.

“You didn’t ask”, he replied.

He also didn’t tell me there was no living room and no other mattress in his room. Therefore, I had no choice but to share his bed. Also, there was no blanket, despite it being about 15 degrees outside. Coming from nights of 30 degrees, I was cold! The only covering he had was a curtain. Therefore, the only way I could warm up was body heat. So one thing led to another, and before I knew it, Boris was “in love” with me and talking about a future. When I said “why can’t we enjoy the week together”, he got angry and told me that I was using him, and could not stand my behavior.

I managed to calm him down, but he acted up again a few times, and although I had a credit card, money and a cellphone, Boris wouldn’t hear of me wandering around Moscow myself. So he calmed down for a few days but then got upset again on the last night.
I did manage to enjoy my time in Moscow, despite the surprise from my friend who had promised to “respect me no matter what I decided”. I did not know that my decision to touch him made me committed to a long distance relationship with me.

He made me promise to call him immediately upon my return to Israel. I did, and sent him a follow up email, explaining again that I would help him during his visits to Israel in the future, but that my life was here (in Israel) and I wanted a boyfriend who LIVED in Israel. He didn't like my explanation, and told me to delete the pictures I had taken and not contact him ever again.

And although I don’t believe in “love at first sight/touch”, it was very moving to hear a man say he loved me, the first time in, perhaps ten years. (My last boyfriend did love me but had too many emotional problems to say it to my face. Yes, we are no longer together). On the other hand, it could have ended much worse, like with Carrie and Aleksandr - when she got upset, he slapped her. Then again, she had Mr. Big to rescue her and take her back to New York.

When a man behaves like a woman, run away….. but if you have nowhere to run to, what do you do? Maybe it’s better to travel to Europe with a girlfriend.

This writer says make sure your travel companion is straight, and make sure that the bed you’re going to sleep in is equipped with a warm, thick blanket rather than a warm, emotional man!

Post 65: Sabra attacked by a sabra

Post 65: Sabra attacked by a sabra

As most of you know, sabra is a cactus fruit found in Israel and also refers to a native-born Israeli. I'm not a sabra, since I immigrated to Israel from Canada, but both my mother and my son are sabras. When referring to male sabras, the term also alludes to, like the fruit, something/someone who is rough and tough (macho-like) on the outside but sweet on the inside.

My son could probably use a little bit of the sabra in him for his exterior, as his sensitive side shows through all too clearly in public. This has made him subject to teasing. Now that he's a teenager, it's still tough for him to be "tough", but that's what psychologists are for.....yes, I'm passing the buck, but I have an excuse. I'm not a sabra, and I'm just not that tough. I fight for my rights, but I'm still pretty nice. You won't see me in the book "Why Men Marry Bitches". Maybe that's why I'm not married.

And although I've had quite a few boyfriends, both before and after my marriage and divorce, not all of them were native-born Israelis. There have been Anglo-saxon (of all English speaking countries), South American, Russian, Israelis who lived abroad, and yes, some born and bred sabras.

A few weeks ago, I met a sabra. The mammal. Not the fruit. We clicked immediately and started a relationship,,,,,of sorts. One night he was hungry and started peeling fruit from his fridge. Startled by the noise, I woke up and he offered me some sabra fruit. I ate one or two that he had cut up for me, and then watched him devour one after the other, relishing every bite.

But he didn't use gloves! A few hours later, I found him awake again in pain, yelling, and pulling out cactus thorns from his hands.

The sabra had attacked the sabra. But this writer realized that sabras can also fight back.

Post 64: The mat and me

Post 64: The mat and me



When you go to a party or event, who are the women and men that turn heads? There are the extremely fat ones....perhaps you console yourself and think "wow, I'm not that fat" or you feel disgust "how did he let himself get so large without doing anything about it" or pity "wow, she has such a pretty face. Maybe she had to take steroids or has a thyroid problem. I bet she's a wonderful person on the inside"....then there are the "cusiot"...I really was shocked when this slang term came out in Israel for beautiful, sexy women. They used to be called simply "hatichot" (pieces) but then a particular piece of female anatomy was added to the slang. The young Israelis didn't let the word go. Instead they added a male equivalent (but still using the reference to the female vagina) and called a great looking man a "cuson". Since I haven't been living in Canada for more than 20 years, I don't know what the most updated term is. We used to call these guys "hunks".



The point is that the other type of head turners are "cusiot". And they know it. They have a slim figure, thin but not skeletal looking, and a big chest, but not out of proportion. Their hair is straight and long,, rarely curly, and their makeup is also in place. Their mascara doesn't run and their lipstick seems to stay on even after they drink coffee.. ..a walking wax doll......



If they don't smile, men won't necessarily approach them, but if they do flash a smile or two, they won't be sitting alone. Another variation is simply a tall thin woman with lots of self-confidence who simply knows that she attracts men and doesn't have to do anything except appear at a party.....but she's less of a head turner.



With the men, it doesn't operate the same way. The good looking guys may come off arrogant and the women will run the other way. But if a good looking guy appears who is also a little bit shy and modest and smiles at everyone around, the women will often fall to their feet. These guys will treat the "cusiot" the same as the chubby or obese women and the same as the short women with adult acne.



Then there are the musicians. Since I have a weakness for them, almost any guy playing an instrument (especially guitar) will allure me. All of a sudden I forget whether he is divorced, smokes, is educated, or even stable.....if he shows me some attention, I'm a goner. (I usually calm down when I do a reality check).



There are also unusual people. Some bring gimmicks - babies (their own or their nephews/nieces), cute dogs, or even a parrot. Yup, there is a guy I know who brings his parrot to parties. The parrot quietly rests on his shoulder during the evening or he lends him out to other people.



Those have you who have been reading this blog for awhile know a few things about me. I'm not a "cusit". I am not tall and thin and have curly, unkept hair. I don't smoke. I don't have a baby or a dog or a parrot. But there is one thing I have that not too many people have at these picnic gatherings I often go to....a mat!!!



In Hebrew it's called a "machtzelet" - it's those large flat rugs, made of straw-like material. It's sturdier than a blanket and great to use when you need a comfortable surface on which to sit. So if you don't like sitting on antholes and bird droppings, you will happily gravitate to a machtzelet.



When I first bought my machtzelet on sale, I didn't realize what power it would give me. I kept in my car and started bringing it to events. Wow. People started sitting next to me. If someone started to smoke, I could send them away "please smoke somewhere else. This is my machtzelet". When it was time to go, everyone had to get up, and so I was noticed, because I had to pack up the "machtzelet". If people sat in front of me, I could move closer up and move them to the back of the machtzelet, cause it was mine!



This writer doesn't need to be a 'cusit'. She has a machtzelet!

Post 63: Patience

Post 63: Patience

I want to adore you
when the smoky cloud lifts

Temptation taunts
You give me what I want

But I can't purposely lead you deeper
only to break our hearts again

So let's end before the Pandora box opens wider
We'll get what we deserve
in time.


This writer wrote this a few months when trying to avoid going out with a smoker. She got rid of one smoker only to attract another one several months later.

Post 62: Before the morning sun

I haven't written for awhile...lot going on...


You sink into me
as you snore away
I want to love you
I want to stay

Silk skin welding into one
Going to leave before the morning sun.

This writer dedicates this short post to all those lovers who live in separate houses and need to get back home to their children....and in this case, before my son wakes up in the morning...

Post 61: Attracting the Repellent

Post 61: Attracting the Repellent

Since THE breakup in November 2008, I've spent quite a few weekends going on hikes organized by volunteers from various social groups on the Internet, a sort of Israeli-Facebook mixed with Jdate. Because the hikes are free, you never know if 30 or 300 people will show up, children, singles, or both.


Now that it's getting so hot and humid in Israel, the hikes are also being held in the evening. So I headed out one Saturday evening, along with one of my girlfriends, to one of the said evening hikes. This time, much to my surprise, there were only about 30 people. I spotted a few couples in their 50s and 60s, a mother and daughter, a few girlfriends in their 50s or so, a single woman in her 20s or 30s, a few single guys in their 20s and 30s, the "leader" of the group in his 50s and his wife, and an unidentified threesome in their 30s or 40s - two men and a woman.

My friend and I concentrated on the beautiful walk, timed perfectly to view the sunset from the cliffs overlooking the Mediterranean Sea, between Tel Aviv and Haifa. I could tell it was summer because of the beads of sweat starting to drip down my back from the humidity. Confession: I was also out of shape, as I hadn't hiked for a few weeks. I spoke mainly to my girlfriend whom I hadn't seen for some time, (perhaps 24 hours!) I find it both funny and sad when I end up in such romantic spots with a woman rather than a man. I am still straight and not about to change sides in my 40s. But I can still enjoy the feeling of beauty and romance without a man. Yeah, right! Who am I kidding? Although I was pleased that the crowd was relatively small and intimate, I remembered all too well the "good" things of my three-year relationship, and one was almost the weekly hikes in the Galilee, sometimes (though obviously less towards the bitter end) hand-in-hand. My girlfriend is a cynic, a little bit like "Miranda" in Sex and the City. "If I haven't had a good relationship up to now, or when I was in my 20s, why should I attract a good relationship now?"

Although Facebook claims that I am more like Carrie Bradshaw, my attitude towards romance is closer to Charlotte York, and I know that I will meet someone again...he's out there, somewhere.

As the sun set, I didn't feel very romantic anymore. The beads of sweat on my back were replaced by the bites of mosquitoes quickly and visciously biting at my exposed skin, and even through my clothes, with insect aggressivity that I hadn't witnessed since immigrating from Canada to Israel, more than 20 years ago.

Enough of the Canadian politeness. There is no politeness when it comes to mosquitoes, regardless of their nationality. Here too I am definitely straight and prefer the male variety anytime. It's the females that bite!!! As dusk turned into dark, the mosquitoes declared war against me.

"Does anyone have mosquito repellant?" I yelled with my Anglo Saxon accent in Hebrew.

"Yes, there's a young man over there named Erez who has some".

I approached Erez who turned out to be one of the unidentified threesome. Wow, I thought, a single guy. The attractive blonde lady who was hanging out with him was actually a friend of his who came to the hike with her husband. The mosquito repellent (whose strong smell would normally repel men and women, as well as mosquitoes) gave me the excuse to talk to someone I would not have had the nerve to speak to. As liberal as Israelis claim to be, it's still not considered that acceptable for a woman to start up with a man. There are exceptions and some of you will disagree with me, but I've seen some live interactions, and the men still seem to like being the hunters and iniators. In this case, I may have started out by hunting men, but ended up hunting only a relief to my insect attacks. If men could chase after me like mosquitoes did, I wouldn't have any time to write this blog.

I seemed to have struck the jackpot. Not only did Erez have mosquito repellant but he was also divorced, close to my age (at first glance), seemingly non-smoking (although I've been disappointed on that front before) and has a few children as well. He was also employed, not bad looking and friendly. We spoke a bit about our children and some topics to do with his profession (not revealing so as not to identify him). I did wonder why the blonde woman was watching him like a hawk, considering that she was there with her husband. As a matter of fact, I wondered at first if they were brother and sister.

I introduced him to my girlfriend as well, as if to say "I found a divorced guy with kids! Finally". At the end of the evening, the threesome said good-bye, but Erez didn't ask me for my phone number. The usual scenario went through my head "too overweight; he prefers dark-skinned women; too talkative; lives too far away; prefers sabras (sabra usually refers to an Israeli citizen born in Israel) or whatever".

I checked with the Israeli blonde on the said internet site, and got the true reason - he already has a girlfriend - she just couldn't make it to the hike that evening - and she is friends of the blonde! "Didn't he say anything about her?", she asked me.

I thought to myself - perhaps he did, but I heard only what I wanted to hear...or maybe he didn't as I didn't ask. I did ask if he was a "bachelor". In any case, I met some nice people and enjoyed the hike. I didn't expect to meet someone who was dating material in the first place, although I always leave the option open.


This writer didn't find her knight in shining armor....but she was rescued, in the night, with armor against mosquitoes!