I just finished seven years of writing. That's right (write?) Originally I wrote almost 41 posts before the era of blogs and when I decided to open a blog, I had material ready to post every few days. It took approximately six months to post these stories, and it was fun, albeit painful at times, to review each post in retrospect.
Now I will be creating new material. I don't know whether to pick up where I left off, or tell the story of what is happening to me now and then go back in time.
For the present, let me just thank my friends and family who have been following this blog and encourage them to share it with others. Just because I don't write under my real name, doesn't mean I don't want to be read.
Given the emotional state that I'm in right now, I can't guarantee the new material to be as witty or as fresh as past posts, but I can hope to offer my brand of cynicism with a little bit of cautious optimism thrown in for fun.....
This writer is shifting gears in this eerie era.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Post 41: Fishing for Space
originally created as Column Forty-one, April 2007
As I walked past the outdoor stands in the neighborhood shopping mall, just before Passover, I was attracted to the bright colors of several vodka bottles. Inside each bottle was a mini-aquarium containing water (not vodka) and a single fish. The salesperson was selling each bottle+fish+fishfood as a gift.
A few people walked by to inquire what she was selling. Most of them exclaimed "poor thing - he's all alone". The vendor explained that if the fish had a partner they would probably kill each other and that he can live for about four years in such a bottle. Furthermore, if you would put that fish in a huge aquarium, he would look for a quiet and intimate corner.
I didn't see anyone buying the fish, but many continued to protest at the fish's apparent bachelorhood. I found it amusing that despite the fact that the vendor explained that the fish was content being alone, people insisted that he was lonely. Even fish aren't allowed to be alone in Israel? Even being a single fish is socially unacceptable? I imagine that if people weren't so busy, they would quickly come up to the vendor with suggestions of eligible other fish to fix him up with, and if he would reject their candidacy, they would probably console their own fish and say "don't worry, there are plenty more in the sea".
A few people walked by to inquire what she was selling. Most of them exclaimed "poor thing - he's all alone". The vendor explained that if the fish had a partner they would probably kill each other and that he can live for about four years in such a bottle. Furthermore, if you would put that fish in a huge aquarium, he would look for a quiet and intimate corner.
I didn't see anyone buying the fish, but many continued to protest at the fish's apparent bachelorhood. I found it amusing that despite the fact that the vendor explained that the fish was content being alone, people insisted that he was lonely. Even fish aren't allowed to be alone in Israel? Even being a single fish is socially unacceptable? I imagine that if people weren't so busy, they would quickly come up to the vendor with suggestions of eligible other fish to fix him up with, and if he would reject their candidacy, they would probably console their own fish and say "don't worry, there are plenty more in the sea".
But seriously, this is the continuous obsession with having to have a partner or live with someone to be part of society. In a recent popular tv show, a single woman and her fiance call off the marriage. The camera shows the ex-bride crying hysterically in her living room. Her friend tries to console her. She says she is crying because she wanted her identity card to read "divorced". A comedy, yes, but sadly true.
It seems to be more acceptable to be divorced than to be single. Even the series "Sex and the City", that tried to glorify, or at least justify single women being single, ended the series with EACH one of the four single girls being married or at least having a serious, committed boyfriend. As the series did not continue, we do not know what happened to the characters and whether their relationships did succeed in the long-term, or not. However, the writers seemed to have given in, despite the non-conventional and daring manner in which the series was portrayed to the socially conservative notion of women living "happily ever after" with the men of their dreams.
And so here it was...a beautiful fish in a beautiful home happily sporting its colors and decorative environment to the passersby. But that was not enough. This single fish was not accepted by it society, not even on the eve of Passover!
This writer does NOT live with a boyfriend or husband in Israel,, but she is not lonely!
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Post 40: Ecology and Loneliness
Originally created as Column Forty, January, 2005
I’m starting to think that all my single friends whether they are never married, widowed, divorced with children or divorced without don’t REALLY want to meet someone new…not deep down in their subconscious. On the one hand, we want to feel excitement, butterflies in their stomach, something different, new, explore and conquer the unknown….
I’m starting to think that all my single friends whether they are never married, widowed, divorced with children or divorced without don’t REALLY want to meet someone new…not deep down in their subconscious. On the one hand, we want to feel excitement, butterflies in their stomach, something different, new, explore and conquer the unknown….
But on the other hand we want the familiarity of people who have known them from 1-30 years, friends, people who have been with them through rough and better times, the familiarity of a hug or a smile or a certain joke, the ability to tease and yet being able to forgive…in short, everything that comes with being a friend….
And forever reason the “comfort’ of the “chevreh” (group of friends) is like the hug of a mother to a child…no replacement for it. And although sex has sometimes come into place with some of the chevreh, being that the “chevreh” consists of certain people who may or may not have slept with each other at some point within the last 1-20 years, it is not the main factor.
So you get together, some hormones rage, some don’t. “Hey Odelia, are you going back to Holon? My friend Dana lives there and it would be great if you could give her a lift back – otherwise I have to drive out of my way”, I said at a gathering of friends and friends of friends on a cold and rainy Saturday night approximately 30 kilometers away from Tel Aviv…”I haven’t decided if I’m going home” replied Odelia. (Odelia obviously did not have a young child or babysitter waiting for her to come home to Tel Aviv).
Ah, I understand later as I see her lurking next to the car of my ex boyfriend…later I find out she did go back to Tel Aviv – my ex boyfriend wanted her to stay over in the city where he lives. So he was rejected….he’s hard to resist…surprised that she rejected him…he didn’t even look me in the eye, but that was ok….I’ve moved on…maybe not….and so I dropped Dana off in Tel Aviv and went home alone but then get a call to see if I got home ok and then invited the caller over…it was a cold and rainy night. The caller wasn’t my recent ex boyfriend but there were endless possibilities of who would end up with whom that evening.
This writer asks why accept a hug from a stranger when you can recycle?
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Post 39: The Princess and the Pea (The Pita and the Chick Pea)
Originally created as Column Thirty-nine, January, 2005
In post 33, the Cinderella Syndrome, I wrote about Cinderella and the slipper, when my shoe broke at a company event I attended with my then boyfriend. Today I tell the tale of the Princess and the Pea, the legend of a prince’s search to discover and then marry a true sensitive princess who would feel a pea under 20 mattresses and 20 blankets. Personally I think being married to such a woman would be difficult as the trait in this case is hypersensitivity rather than sensitivity, but let’s look at the similarities between the Princess and the Pea and me.
I sleep with 4 blankets in the winter as I have no one else to keep me warm (and the apartments in the coastal area of Israel are not heated.
I went to a party where I was hungry and there wasn’t much food, so I helped myself to some humous, which is made out of chick peas.
The housewarming party was in an old hut on a “moshav” – a village in Israel in the Jerusalem hills and the houseguests, many whom didn’t even know the host but heard there was a party numbered over a hundred. After eating the humous in a piece of pita bread (the pita and the chick pea = the princess and the pea), I turned around to the voice of a European prince who asked me if it was tasty.
“Not bad, I replied but when you’re hungry, you can’t complain”. The European’s eyes met mine and we smiled at each other. Hopefully, no traces of humous remained around my lips. “Where are you from” I asked. (Very royal conversation). “Tel Aviv” the European replied. “Oh, you’re not from Spain or Argentina?” I asked. “You have some sort of Latin accent”.
“Italian, I studied industrial design in Milan for 4 years. By the way, the colors you are wearing become you. “
(“And I’m a writer”, I thought, but I haven’t written in ages. So I’ll have to go home and write.)
“Thanks, I don’t like wearing black. It depresses me, and I guess green matches my eyes”.
“Yes, and I may not know a lot but I do know a lot about color”.
And eventually the prince (who wasn’t European after all) and princess walked outside of the crowded house to get some privacy. He held my hands. But he’s looking for a bachelorette, an unmarried female, and I’m divorced with a child….and what do I need to be involved with another bachelor for, especially one who isn’t interested in me as I am not a true princess, despite finding the chick pea under a pile of 20 pitas.
But for a few moments I was a princess and he was a princess.
This writer was so happy that she took the toll highway home from Jerusalem instead of the regular highway and her euphoria cost her fifty shekels. A fee fit only for a rich princess.
In post 33, the Cinderella Syndrome, I wrote about Cinderella and the slipper, when my shoe broke at a company event I attended with my then boyfriend. Today I tell the tale of the Princess and the Pea, the legend of a prince’s search to discover and then marry a true sensitive princess who would feel a pea under 20 mattresses and 20 blankets. Personally I think being married to such a woman would be difficult as the trait in this case is hypersensitivity rather than sensitivity, but let’s look at the similarities between the Princess and the Pea and me.
I sleep with 4 blankets in the winter as I have no one else to keep me warm (and the apartments in the coastal area of Israel are not heated.
I went to a party where I was hungry and there wasn’t much food, so I helped myself to some humous, which is made out of chick peas.
The housewarming party was in an old hut on a “moshav” – a village in Israel in the Jerusalem hills and the houseguests, many whom didn’t even know the host but heard there was a party numbered over a hundred. After eating the humous in a piece of pita bread (the pita and the chick pea = the princess and the pea), I turned around to the voice of a European prince who asked me if it was tasty.
“Not bad, I replied but when you’re hungry, you can’t complain”. The European’s eyes met mine and we smiled at each other. Hopefully, no traces of humous remained around my lips. “Where are you from” I asked. (Very royal conversation). “Tel Aviv” the European replied. “Oh, you’re not from Spain or Argentina?” I asked. “You have some sort of Latin accent”.
“Italian, I studied industrial design in Milan for 4 years. By the way, the colors you are wearing become you. “
(“And I’m a writer”, I thought, but I haven’t written in ages. So I’ll have to go home and write.)
“Thanks, I don’t like wearing black. It depresses me, and I guess green matches my eyes”.
“Yes, and I may not know a lot but I do know a lot about color”.
And eventually the prince (who wasn’t European after all) and princess walked outside of the crowded house to get some privacy. He held my hands. But he’s looking for a bachelorette, an unmarried female, and I’m divorced with a child….and what do I need to be involved with another bachelor for, especially one who isn’t interested in me as I am not a true princess, despite finding the chick pea under a pile of 20 pitas.
But for a few moments I was a princess and he was a princess.
This writer was so happy that she took the toll highway home from Jerusalem instead of the regular highway and her euphoria cost her fifty shekels. A fee fit only for a rich princess.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Post 38: I Feel the Earth Move
originally created as Column Thirty-eight, February, 2004
Febuary, 2004, “Winter” in Israel. The economic situation in Israel is deteriorating. Technology is advancing but social benefits are being cut by the government and the middle class is slowly but surely disappearing. Unemployment is high and those working are hanging on to their jobs for dear life.
So what has this to do with dating and No Sex in the City? Sex doesn’t cost money between singles if there are two mutual and willing parties, but the steps you need to take to have sex do cost money. Whether you are a mother with a young child at home who needs a babysitter in order to go on a date or a man who usually pays for coffee during a first date, at least, the hidden agenda, whether it takes one date, three months, or an engagement, is sex.
Of course, there are other ambitions among single people looking for a life partner or even a temporary partner – mutual interests, values, perhaps wanting to have children, and for those of us divorced with children, the compatibility of our children with theirs, in the remote future.
But this winter, the singles are hibernating behind their computer screens. Snuggling under their thick blankets alone or perhaps finding comfort (not sexual) with the companionship of their children and/or pets or the eternal wait for their laundry to dry before it rains, yet again. We embrace the 15 degree temperatures during the day whereas our friends and family in Canada think it’s a summer day when the thermometer rises from -45 to -15.
So despite the tough situation here economically, we smile and enjoy the days of sunshine between the wet days and cool nights and heave a sigh of relief, “thank goodness I don’t live in Canada in the winter!” Yes, I think I am immune to the influence of natural causes here, because the weather simply is the best part of living here. Who cares about terrorists and car accidents when I can feel solace in the sunshine as I sit without a coat as I eat lunch at an outdoor café. So this morning I vowed to concentrate only on work, and not think about the emotional and financial difficulties my son and I are having. Immersed in proofreading the English text of a technical diagram, I quickly forget the world except regarding font size, punctuation and grammar.
Before I know it I feel the whole room shake and I move quickly to stand between the door frames of the office. A few minutes later, the internet confirmed my intuitive prognosis. EARTHQUAKE in central Israel. Measured 4.5 on the Richter scale. Wonder if there is going to be an aftershock.
Some people feel the earth move when they are having sex. This writer thinks that her chances for having a boyfriend before spring are less than the chances of being in another earthquake. She also hopes it will take less than another earthquake before she gets child support owing to her son for more than a year.
Febuary, 2004, “Winter” in Israel. The economic situation in Israel is deteriorating. Technology is advancing but social benefits are being cut by the government and the middle class is slowly but surely disappearing. Unemployment is high and those working are hanging on to their jobs for dear life.
So what has this to do with dating and No Sex in the City? Sex doesn’t cost money between singles if there are two mutual and willing parties, but the steps you need to take to have sex do cost money. Whether you are a mother with a young child at home who needs a babysitter in order to go on a date or a man who usually pays for coffee during a first date, at least, the hidden agenda, whether it takes one date, three months, or an engagement, is sex.
Of course, there are other ambitions among single people looking for a life partner or even a temporary partner – mutual interests, values, perhaps wanting to have children, and for those of us divorced with children, the compatibility of our children with theirs, in the remote future.
But this winter, the singles are hibernating behind their computer screens. Snuggling under their thick blankets alone or perhaps finding comfort (not sexual) with the companionship of their children and/or pets or the eternal wait for their laundry to dry before it rains, yet again. We embrace the 15 degree temperatures during the day whereas our friends and family in Canada think it’s a summer day when the thermometer rises from -45 to -15.
So despite the tough situation here economically, we smile and enjoy the days of sunshine between the wet days and cool nights and heave a sigh of relief, “thank goodness I don’t live in Canada in the winter!” Yes, I think I am immune to the influence of natural causes here, because the weather simply is the best part of living here. Who cares about terrorists and car accidents when I can feel solace in the sunshine as I sit without a coat as I eat lunch at an outdoor café. So this morning I vowed to concentrate only on work, and not think about the emotional and financial difficulties my son and I are having. Immersed in proofreading the English text of a technical diagram, I quickly forget the world except regarding font size, punctuation and grammar.
Before I know it I feel the whole room shake and I move quickly to stand between the door frames of the office. A few minutes later, the internet confirmed my intuitive prognosis. EARTHQUAKE in central Israel. Measured 4.5 on the Richter scale. Wonder if there is going to be an aftershock.
Some people feel the earth move when they are having sex. This writer thinks that her chances for having a boyfriend before spring are less than the chances of being in another earthquake. She also hopes it will take less than another earthquake before she gets child support owing to her son for more than a year.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Post 37: The Ice Cream Test
originally created as Column Thirty-seven, October, 2003
The Ice Cream Test
We had 20 minutes to kill before the movie and there was no place to grab a coffee, so my date and I entered the ice cream parlor on the floor above the movie theater. I wasn’t particularly in the mood for ice cream but there wasn’t much choice unless we wanted to stroll around the popular drug-store franchise. It was my second date with Aaron and already I knew that we had a lot in common: Both divorced with children, both working in hi-tech, both from English speaking countries with no parents in Israel and both of us liking the tv show “Sex and the City”.
The ice cream bar featured numerous flavors and then came the shock. He ordered two scoops of chocolate ice cream. I stood astonished as he chose the chocolate among the multitude of flavors ranging from lemon sherbet and strawberry cheesecake to poppyseed and pistachio. He looked at me, explaining “I know that vanilla is the most popular flavor around the world, but I like chocolate.” We sat down with our ice cream (I decided that I needed a sugar fix at this point to recover from my shock, and ordered one scoop of lemon sherbet). I leaned over the table and whispered quietly to him “I’ve heard of people like you. I just didn’t know they actually existed.” Then I realized that I might have hurt his feelings by insinuating that he was “common”, and I thought more deeply about the subject. If he had so many choices and chose chocolate, then maybe this was actually a good sign. Maybe this was a sign of knowing what he wants and sticking to it. Of faithfulness. Of devotion. A man who could be surrounded by diverse and plentiful flavours of ice cream and yet still stick to his favourite might do the same regarding women. Say he's at a business conference in Europe, surrounded by a multitude of women of varying heights, ages and figures, wearing different colored clothes, and speaking different languages, he would resist the temptation to try any of the options available. So therefore, who needs a private detective?
To the woman wanting to know if your potential boyfriend is a Don Juan or a one-woman man, this writer says: Simply take him out for ice cream.
The Ice Cream Test
We had 20 minutes to kill before the movie and there was no place to grab a coffee, so my date and I entered the ice cream parlor on the floor above the movie theater. I wasn’t particularly in the mood for ice cream but there wasn’t much choice unless we wanted to stroll around the popular drug-store franchise. It was my second date with Aaron and already I knew that we had a lot in common: Both divorced with children, both working in hi-tech, both from English speaking countries with no parents in Israel and both of us liking the tv show “Sex and the City”.
The ice cream bar featured numerous flavors and then came the shock. He ordered two scoops of chocolate ice cream. I stood astonished as he chose the chocolate among the multitude of flavors ranging from lemon sherbet and strawberry cheesecake to poppyseed and pistachio. He looked at me, explaining “I know that vanilla is the most popular flavor around the world, but I like chocolate.” We sat down with our ice cream (I decided that I needed a sugar fix at this point to recover from my shock, and ordered one scoop of lemon sherbet). I leaned over the table and whispered quietly to him “I’ve heard of people like you. I just didn’t know they actually existed.” Then I realized that I might have hurt his feelings by insinuating that he was “common”, and I thought more deeply about the subject. If he had so many choices and chose chocolate, then maybe this was actually a good sign. Maybe this was a sign of knowing what he wants and sticking to it. Of faithfulness. Of devotion. A man who could be surrounded by diverse and plentiful flavours of ice cream and yet still stick to his favourite might do the same regarding women. Say he's at a business conference in Europe, surrounded by a multitude of women of varying heights, ages and figures, wearing different colored clothes, and speaking different languages, he would resist the temptation to try any of the options available. So therefore, who needs a private detective?
To the woman wanting to know if your potential boyfriend is a Don Juan or a one-woman man, this writer says: Simply take him out for ice cream.
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Post 36: A 'cheep' (not cheap) overnight guest
originally created as Column 36, June 2003
A “cheep” (not cheap) Overnight Guest
NO SLEEP CAUSE OF CHEEP CHEEP CHEEP....
I couldn't sleep last night cause there was a loud chirp or beep beep beep
in my 9 year old son’s room all night. I thought it was his alarm clock or a plastic hammer or some other toy that you get if you order a children’s meal at McDonald's. But I couldn’t find any toys. Then I thought it might be a car alarm. It was driving me crazy and I couldn't sleep. I closed my door but it was really loud. I was up til 3 or 4 am. Then at 5 am my son came to my room and told me he couldn't sleep cause there was something chirping in his room. I said, it stopped...just stay in my room and we'll deal with it in the morning, so we slept for 2 hours and then in the morning., we went to his room and heard NOTHING.
I said to my son”, this is crazy, I need to find out what the noise was. I can't take another night of this cheep cheep cheep as loud as a car alarm. I took apart everything in his room and still.....silence....
Then we heard faintly again CHEEP CHEEP CHEEP....if it was a bird or a
housefly the thing would use its wings, and if it was a mouse, there would be droppings, and it was mechanical it wouldn't stop the minute I walked into the room …and then my son suddenly saw something and yelled “COCKROACH!!!!”
But Cockroaches don't sing. (They are actually quiet) It was a cricket!!!!
I ran for the RAID and finally killed him....
This writer is now relieved to see cockroaches sneaking around the kitchen at night. At least they don’t sing!
A “cheep” (not cheap) Overnight Guest
NO SLEEP CAUSE OF CHEEP CHEEP CHEEP....
I couldn't sleep last night cause there was a loud chirp or beep beep beep
in my 9 year old son’s room all night. I thought it was his alarm clock or a plastic hammer or some other toy that you get if you order a children’s meal at McDonald's. But I couldn’t find any toys. Then I thought it might be a car alarm. It was driving me crazy and I couldn't sleep. I closed my door but it was really loud. I was up til 3 or 4 am. Then at 5 am my son came to my room and told me he couldn't sleep cause there was something chirping in his room. I said, it stopped...just stay in my room and we'll deal with it in the morning, so we slept for 2 hours and then in the morning., we went to his room and heard NOTHING.
I said to my son”, this is crazy, I need to find out what the noise was. I can't take another night of this cheep cheep cheep as loud as a car alarm. I took apart everything in his room and still.....silence....
Then we heard faintly again CHEEP CHEEP CHEEP....if it was a bird or a
housefly the thing would use its wings, and if it was a mouse, there would be droppings, and it was mechanical it wouldn't stop the minute I walked into the room …and then my son suddenly saw something and yelled “COCKROACH!!!!”
But Cockroaches don't sing. (They are actually quiet) It was a cricket!!!!
I ran for the RAID and finally killed him....
This writer is now relieved to see cockroaches sneaking around the kitchen at night. At least they don’t sing!
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Post 35: C'mon Baby Light My Fire
originally created as Column Thirty-Five, April, 2003
I told everyone I would have a boyfriend by my 40th birthday. Well I don’t. So I am inviting 4 ex-boyfriends (at least) to my birthday. Oh, and I wanted someone to really turn me on for my birthday. Someone to make me feel really hot. And instead I got a real fire. Yup, my split-unit air conditioner/heater short circuited and went up in flames 2 weeks before my birthday. I’ve wanted to spend the night in someone else’s home for quite some time. Well, I did –had to sleep at the neighbors during the night of the fire to avoid smoke inhalation. I wanted to meet new men, so I did. Fire fighters, insurance agents, paramedics, appraisers and air conditioning salesmen.
On the program, “Sex in the City”, the fire fighters were well built and sexy. In Israel, all this writer received was a bill from the fire department.
I told everyone I would have a boyfriend by my 40th birthday. Well I don’t. So I am inviting 4 ex-boyfriends (at least) to my birthday. Oh, and I wanted someone to really turn me on for my birthday. Someone to make me feel really hot. And instead I got a real fire. Yup, my split-unit air conditioner/heater short circuited and went up in flames 2 weeks before my birthday. I’ve wanted to spend the night in someone else’s home for quite some time. Well, I did –had to sleep at the neighbors during the night of the fire to avoid smoke inhalation. I wanted to meet new men, so I did. Fire fighters, insurance agents, paramedics, appraisers and air conditioning salesmen.
On the program, “Sex in the City”, the fire fighters were well built and sexy. In Israel, all this writer received was a bill from the fire department.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Post 34: No Sex in the Desert
originally created as Column 34, February, 2003
"No Sex in the Desert" OR "My Boyfriend Cheated on Me with a Rifle"
I don’t usually give two titles to these posts, but this was an exception, especially when this writer actually had a boyfriend for the first time in 3 years. For 6 weeks. And about 12 dates!
There I was. In a huge Bedouin tent in the middle of a desert in a sleeping bag. On a mattress. ALONE! And a few mattresses away lay Ariel. My boyfriend. Or he was my boyfriend. Only he was ignoring me and sleeping with his rifle instead.
I didn’t really expect to have sex in the desert in front of 15 other adult campers. I just wanted to be warm. And it’s not like some beautiful thin young woman had stolen my boyfriend. I was competing with a rifle….
So he ignored me. On Friday and for most of Saturday.
I was in one of the most romantic spots in the world – Ein Gedi – an oasis in a desert. But my love life dried up like a drained waterfall. Even Ariel remarked how wonderful the nature reserve was and how long it had been since he had hiked to such a beautiful area but he wouldn’t hold my hand or put his arm around me. He did let me lend him some toothpaste and share his backpack and he did hold my hand when he thought I would fall. But no one knew we were a couple. Or had been a couple. For the last 6 weeks. So I told him I wouldn’t call him again. That he could take the time to do the thinking he needed to do. About us. And that was 8 days ago. I haven’t heard from him since.
Sure enough I got another cold sore, a really ugly one in the middle of my lip, so I am not in a rush to date the leftover men that I had started to make contact with before I was set up with this cute but introverted and non-communicative bachelor.
I wanted 5 dates. I got about 11. It was nice having a boyfriend for 6 weeks or so. Even nicer than having an imaginary one.
But it’s back to the drawing board. Now what am I going to do?
My friends say it’s simple: STOP COUNTING DATES!!!!
But how can I stop? Behavioral therapy? My friends practically sent a press release out when I made it past the 5th date. One friend thought the Messiah was on its way. The other one was sure that Bush was about to attack Iraq. Well, the last time I spent the Gulf War with a boyfriend I ended up getting engaged. And I don’t think I’d want to go through that again….
Of course this writer is sad, but what does she expect after being Cinderella and having her shoe rescued by Prince Charming. Instead of the clock striking 12 and Cinderella’s chariot turning into a pumpkin.
"No Sex in the Desert" OR "My Boyfriend Cheated on Me with a Rifle"
I don’t usually give two titles to these posts, but this was an exception, especially when this writer actually had a boyfriend for the first time in 3 years. For 6 weeks. And about 12 dates!
There I was. In a huge Bedouin tent in the middle of a desert in a sleeping bag. On a mattress. ALONE! And a few mattresses away lay Ariel. My boyfriend. Or he was my boyfriend. Only he was ignoring me and sleeping with his rifle instead.
I didn’t really expect to have sex in the desert in front of 15 other adult campers. I just wanted to be warm. And it’s not like some beautiful thin young woman had stolen my boyfriend. I was competing with a rifle….
So he ignored me. On Friday and for most of Saturday.
I was in one of the most romantic spots in the world – Ein Gedi – an oasis in a desert. But my love life dried up like a drained waterfall. Even Ariel remarked how wonderful the nature reserve was and how long it had been since he had hiked to such a beautiful area but he wouldn’t hold my hand or put his arm around me. He did let me lend him some toothpaste and share his backpack and he did hold my hand when he thought I would fall. But no one knew we were a couple. Or had been a couple. For the last 6 weeks. So I told him I wouldn’t call him again. That he could take the time to do the thinking he needed to do. About us. And that was 8 days ago. I haven’t heard from him since.
Sure enough I got another cold sore, a really ugly one in the middle of my lip, so I am not in a rush to date the leftover men that I had started to make contact with before I was set up with this cute but introverted and non-communicative bachelor.
I wanted 5 dates. I got about 11. It was nice having a boyfriend for 6 weeks or so. Even nicer than having an imaginary one.
But it’s back to the drawing board. Now what am I going to do?
My friends say it’s simple: STOP COUNTING DATES!!!!
But how can I stop? Behavioral therapy? My friends practically sent a press release out when I made it past the 5th date. One friend thought the Messiah was on its way. The other one was sure that Bush was about to attack Iraq. Well, the last time I spent the Gulf War with a boyfriend I ended up getting engaged. And I don’t think I’d want to go through that again….
Of course this writer is sad, but what does she expect after being Cinderella and having her shoe rescued by Prince Charming. Instead of the clock striking 12 and Cinderella’s chariot turning into a pumpkin.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
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???????
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???????
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