Post 73: The hitech food baby

Post 73: The Hitech Food Baby

With some extra unwanted kilos that seemed to have jumped on to my stomach without me noticing until it was too late (although I really did enjoy my childhood friend's homemade cheesecake), I haven't exactly been given much attention from the male population lately. What I do have are lots of male friends and confidantes, who in time, will probably be instrumental in introducing me to my next boyfriend...or it could happen by accident, as it often does. In the meantime, I am concentrating on doing the things that I enjoy - singing, hiking, writing, and working. I try to walk and swim when I can, although the dietician says running to the train station is not enough (even though I definitely get that pulse rate up as I plop into my seat, sweating and gasping for breath, reach for my water and usually finish 1/2 a litre or so before reaching my destination.

But with my European genes (what kind of DNA adds 5 kilos without blinking on your 35th birthday?), I am not exactly desired dating material in the Israeli Jewish market. If I had a different religion, I'd get to choose the cream of the crop of single men in certain cities in Israel whose demographic makeup I will not spell out here. In these cities, being plump is attractive. One of my doctors put it this way when he last saw me. He didn't even ask me to step on the scale. "I do believe a woman should be curvy, but not that curvy....."

So I'm back to the dietician, have cut out carbohydrates from my lunch and added walks to my schedule, including with an attractive married girlfriend who I spotted with a pregnant stomach a few weeks ago. I NEVER ask married women if they are pregnant, but this was so disporportionate to the rest of her body, I was quite sure. Ouch! She was carrying the same baby as I was - the hitech food baby that often comes as an unwanted fringe benefit from subsicized lunches, too much time next to a computer, a company car (not in my case) and eating sweets instead of carrots between meals.

Next week instead of meeting for quiches and coffee, we met in t-shirts and running shoes.

This writer was surprised to know that she could get pregnant in her late 40s. She just spent time on her exercise bike before writing this..

Post 72: What do you do when you're stood up twice in one night?

The good thing about having platonic friends is that you don't have to follow dating rules. A woman doesn't have to sit at home waiting for the man to call her. It's customary for her to wait when she is dating someone new, but when it comes to male platonic friends, the customs change and it's okay for the woman to take the initiative in organizing an outing, from time to time.

A few months ago, Jakob and I saw a female singer at a folk festival and were very impressed. We were determined to go see her again when she appeared in Tel Aviv. Since I am her Facebook friend, it was easy for me to find out about her upcoming performances. It was actually Jakob who asked me when we would hear her sing again. I told him about the concert she would be giving and he was very enthusiastic. He told a few friends of his, and we were all set to meet at the Tel Aviv pub where she was performing. However, only an hour before we were supposed to meet, Jakob told me that no one else was joining us, and I was looking forward to some quality time with Jakob.

Then less than an hour before the performance was meant to start, Jakob told me that he had a free ticket to a play he had wanted to see for ages, and was sorry to cancel. I was really looking forward to seeing this singer perform, especially as it was in a pub that had no smoking allowed inside. With less than an hour's notice, it was hard for me to find someone who would go with me to the performance instead of Jakob, and I was not thrilled about going by myself.

By good fortune, after the 3rd or 4th phone call, I got a hold of Teddy, a massage therapist, who has just finished work and was conveniently parked near my office building. So he agreed to go to the concert and picked me up and drove me to the venue.

After parking the car in a free parking spot (not to be taken for granted in central Tel Aviv), Teddy and I paid for our tickets separately and sat down to wait for the performance to start. A few minutes later, Teddy got an angry text message from a client who was on her way to Teddy's apartment for a two hour massage. Teddy had forgotten to record this appointment in his calendar and told her that he was late and was on his way. Then he left me in the theater alone. That was already the second time I was stood up in one evening. Luckily, there was another guy alone (but too young for me) and I started to talk to him. Then Teddy returned, much to my surprise. The woman didn't want to wait for him, so he lost 2 hours worth of work and the admission price to the show.

So I wasn't alone after all, so I thought.


The singer started to sing after the lights were dimmed, but that wasn't the only darkness. Teddy fell asleep during the whole show.

I can handle being stood up once or twice....but not in the same evening! And when you have a "date" that isn't really "with you" and even falls asleep, I wonder....would it have been better simply to have come alone?

By the way, Jakob apologized later on that evening and I am not the type to hold a grudge.

But this writer would prefer going on a real date where she isn't just "one of the guys".

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 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.

Post 24: The Current State of Non-Affairs

Originally created as column twenty-four, April 2001

The Current State of Non-Affairs

note: the following was written 7 years ago when the rate of suicide bombs in central Israel was very high. This writer was also younger

The hi-tech industry is at a stand still and so is my love life. Employees are being laid off, or there is simply a hiring freeze, including my free-lance position. The months roll by and the frequency of bombs going off increases. The bombs are exploding closer and closer to my home. I’m trying to go off the sex with ex-boyfriend habit, as I am ready for something deeper, or am I? I met an amazing guy at work, Evan, but he is a bachelor, which goes against all my “rules”. We have an amazing friendship, but he doesn’t seem to want a physical relationship with me, and although we have been almost inseparable for the past two months, he doesn’t appear to want a relationship with me because:

I work with him.
I am divorced.
He is not attracted to me.
I don’t know! And I can’t discuss this with him, as I don’t want to ruin our friendship. We have even spoken about writing together. He gets along amazingly with my son and we both share a love for writing, folk music and theater.

And I’m attracted to him. But I see his faults, and I know that in his forties, if he is not married, there is a reason. Perfectionism? Criticism? Having been hurt in the past?

I can’t get him to open up in this area. I suspect that he takes a long time making decisions. I think I have made it very obvious that I like him and find him attractive...

I even took him one night to the theater so that I didn’t have to be alone and face my ex boyfriend with his new girlfriend. They are perfect for each other. Both overweight. Both without children. Both live within a few blocks of each other. They don’t have children, but they both cook so well that they have to decide about who has custody of the kitchen on the weekends. Food and sex must be a very big part of their lives – but I would choose the sex over the food, given a choice on a Friday night, whereas I am sure they would choose the food first. Oh, I would definitely get to the food, but not if I were seduced first, kissed slowly on my ears, behind my ears, on my neck....

All of a sudden potential blind-dates are calling me as well as men from the past, and my mind is thinking about my work, or lack of permanent work, and I sit exhausted typing about the current state of non-affairs. My perfect lover, who is not a friend and my perfect friend, who is not a lover...and all the ex-lovers and friends in between, suddenly back in my life or trying to enter my life. It’s not really in my hands. I am letting things happen, but I am not hiding my feelings. I am giving unconditionally, something I have not done in a very long time. I have finally gotten “over” my ex-boyfriend now that he has a new girlfriend and I can see that his basic personality and habits will never change.

I look into the eyes of my platonic friend and smile. I try not to imagine my lips touching his, my arms around him, after a friendly hug, being met by an extended hug - I’ve seen him half naked in a swimsuit and he, likewise has seen me in everything from an elegant suit to casual jeans to a bathing suit, with or without makeup...all his friends assure me that he isn’t gay, and he himself has denied being gay and has released names of past girlfriends...

Yet we are both going to bed with books and sleeping in our own beds alone. His pet adores him and reflects his good temper. My expensive house pet adores me and is pretty good natured himself.

No sex in the city tonight for this writer, whereas that may not be the case for two gourmet cooks whiling away the hours at saucepans and the bedsheets at one of two flats in Tel Aviv...

Post 18: New Age Lover

Post 18: New Age Lover
originally created as column 18, November, 2000

Dafna poses the following two questions to the men she dates: Do you like cats? How do you feel about your mother? If the man in question hesitates on both accounts, he is out of the picture. Needless to say, Dafna doesn’t date as much as she used to.

Dafna spent a few months in the U.S this year visiting friends and family and trying to raise some funds for one of her business projects. She became very fond of Mark, and Mark was crazy about her. “Like, that’s so great”, he used to say about almost anything. Mark was very wealthy but lived like a hippie. Dafna considered herself fairly into new age associated subjects such as natural medicine, mysticism and yoga. But even she had her limits.

And although Mark showed serious intentions of investing in Dafna’s business, she wasn’t quite sure what she had to give in return. “I mean the guy is intelligent, handsome, and very sexy” she confessed to me. “But if I slept with him, I’d probably have to sleep with everyone else he is friends with. I mean, there we were in a beautiful house made of wood, eating a tasty vegetarian meal. At the dinner table gathered an assortment of intelligent, warm-hearted people, who had apparently has shared more than a meal with Mark.

I thought he adored me, but he seemed to adore these friends just as much, and wanted me to experience them too. But even I have my limits. Just because all of the people at the dinner table had clear skin, and were eating herb salad and tofu, does that mean I have to sleep with them all?”. It seems that even in the twenty-first century, Mark was a misplaced sixties child who believed in free love. Dafna returned to Israel a little less ambitious than when she initially set out on her fund-raising mission to the States. American men may be more tolerant and smoke less, but Mark lacked in terms of quantities of unhealthy substances he made up for in number of partners. So much for moral vegetarians.

This writer invited Dafna for a steak dinner upon her return to Israel. And we didn’t order dessert.

Post 7: There is sushi. There is sunshine.

originally created as column 7, October, 2000

There is sushi. There is sunshine.

Lately I’m simply a bit tired of thinking about men. So I met Dafna and Liat for sushi one Friday afternoon. It was a beautiful sunny day. No one asked if us if we were thin or fat, what we looked like and why we got divorced. We sat for a leisurely lunch and I didn’t have to worry if Dafna would call me again or whether Liat would try to kiss me. And I can call either one of them without them thinking that I am being pushy. We don’t have to define our relationship because we are all friends, and I won’t get jealous when they date other men or meet with other women. They will compliment me on my clothes and hair and forgive each other for losing or gaining weight, because there are more important things in life after all.

After lunch, I went home and bought myself flowers and put on some quiet romantic music, and then I took a nap. At least when there is no sex, you can sleep peacefully. So on some days, men, we just don’t need you. When there’s no sex, there is sushi, and there is sunshine.

This writer eats tuna salad, chicken and other, less exotic food. Sushi is a treat.

Post 5: It's in his kiss

originally created as column five, September, 2000


I have heard that some prostitutes do not kiss on the mouth, because this implies an emotional attachment. They will have intercourse, give blow jobs, hand jobs, play psychologist and undergo all sorts of female-male acts, but they do not kiss on the mouth.

So you can imagine my devastation when a very cuddly man, divorced with twins, intelligent, charming and not bad looking would not kiss me on the mouth, and still doesn’t kiss any woman he sleeps with. He is still traumatized by his divorce and it will take some type of therapy, or he will simply snap out of it. He gave his soul to his ex-wife and just doesn’t feel that he can give anymore of himself. So he will hug, cuddle, fondle, give massages, but he will not kiss. You would think that I would be tired of that right away, but I stayed with him because it was a really cold winter and I wanted the male warmth and understanding. No one bought me an electric blanket and my quilts kept falling off the bed, but there’s nothing like a hug. So I was hugful and kissless. When I finally got the kiss I waited for from someone else I felt like some teenager. It was on a second date, months later, and it was in his car. He held my face when he kissed me and I didn’t see fireworks, but I felt like a virgin and teenager again (yes these days virginal doesn’t necessarily go with teenager) but I felt like one.... and now I am simply addicted to kissing. I don’t miss hugs so much or orgasms (I can do that by myself anyway) but a good kiss...not a sloppy one or particularly wet one, but a gentle well meaning warm and romantic kiss, and when I hear Cher’s song “It’s in His Kiss, That’s where it is”, I understand.


This writer holds no resemblance to Cher or she would not have time or need to write this column.

Why I started this blogWelcome to my first posting of my blog "No Sex in the City" written by me under my pen-name, Gilit Frank.

Here's an interview with myself (idea courtesy of Lynne Reid Banks, one of my favorite authors):

Me: Why did you start this blog?
Myself: My son, now 14 years old, kept insisting

Me: What do you blog about?

Myself: I don't really have to blog about anything, as I have seven years of material, started in 2000 to use, so I'm going to start posting this material one at a time.

Me: What's it about and who cares?
Myself: In the year 2000, I was writing very lengthy emails to friends about my dating life and parenting issues. One of them said ' you are wasting these stories on me.Why don't you start publishing them?

Me: So did they get published?
Myself: No, I didn't succeed in finding the right readership. And then I heard about blogs. So I just opened one up.

Me: But you still didn't say what you're writing about.
Myself: Yes, I tend to ramble. I write about life as a mother with a divorced child, and my dating life and lack of a sex life, at the time. I started writing when my son was 6, so keep that in mind as you read.

Me: Why do you call it "No Sex in the City?"
Myself: Inspired by the t.v. program, “Sex and the City”, I decided to write a column called “No sex in the city” featuring my friends and yours truly and their aspiration to have sex with perhaps a bit of love, or caring, or at least knowing their partners’ last names in Tel Aviv. At times they actually succeed, but until then, there is a lot of talk, hopes, dreams, and sometimes a bit of reality.Tel Aviv isn’t New York and yet in Achbar Ha’ir (entertainment supplement of the influential Hebrew daily “Ha’aretz”), there was a weekly column called “Sex in the City”. Now I can’t write in Hebrew, so I thought I would like to write a column entitled “No Sex in the City”.This blog does not intend to be scientific or accurate, but is simply a collection of anecdotes, based on true stories about sex and dating in the center of Israel.

Me: Thank you for taking the time to talk to me.
Myself: My pleasure, it's good to talk to me sometimes.