Post 77: Why is one of my best friends swimming in my pond?

Post 77: Why is one of my best friends swimming in my pond?

In one of the episodes of “Sex and the City”, Carrie Bradshaw (then in her mid to late 30s) comes to a party with her then boyfriend Aleksander Petrovsky, probably in his 50s, divorced, with a grown daughter and doesn’t want more children of his own. Carrie’s boss at the time is also in her 50s and laments the lack of men her age. She asks Carrie why she is swimming in her (very small) pond.

In theory, my pond should be very large. Divorced men with children who do not want more children of their own. However if they are non-smokers, that is a must for me, and if they are musicians, that is simply a huge plus.

Since the big breakup more than two years ago, I’ve been hanging out with people of all ages, but many of them 5-15 years younger than me. Of the musician friends, only one is divorced and he has always been polite but rather cold to me. However, I’ve noticed that the women he dates are tall and thin. Matti himself is not very attractive but he is divorced with kids, and around my age.

Therefore, you could imagine my surprise when a close friend of mine started to date him. I am actually very happy for her, but she wants children of her own and has just broken up with someone herself. That means SHE needs the time to heal on her own and it’s my turn for a boyfriend. This is my third cold winter without a boyfriend and she has not even gone the whole winter without one.

And she’s not a musician.

I do wish her all the luck, because, as I said, I was not attracted to that guy in the first place....

Another friend, never married, is also dating a divorced man with a child. I've never met him so it's not like he chose her over me, but still...

both of them are swimming in my pond.

In an ideal world, men who have never been married would go out with single women; divorced guys would go out with divorced women, widows with widowers and newly separated with newly separated.

The only parallelism I see is married people having affairs with other married people.

This writer will probably end up with a single guy 20 years older than her who smokes and isn’t a musician. Or will she?

Post 75: No Sex at the Shiva

Post 75: No Sex at the Shiva



One of my parents recently passed away. I'm not sure I can add any insight about thefuneral and the death of a parent, because it is a universal experience. It's painful. It's intense. It makes you angry. It makes you thankful. And it also makes you laugh. There you are faced with your immortality. Nothing lasts forever. No one lives forever. And suddenty wrinkles that I never saw before sprung up in the mirror.



And I remembered that my sex life has been about as dry as the inside of the coffin. Yes, that bad. So bad that I should have been blogging about it EVERY day, but not only was it No Sex in the City, but No Sex in the Country, in the office, in the sea, and of course, no sex at the shiva - the (normally seven) days of mourning that follow a Jewish funeral.



But right before the funeral, I started to believe in miracles again. That's right. Be careful what you wish for. I decided to lower the par a bit on my expectations. So while still in my post breakup mode, I wished for things that I didn't get from my exboyfriend....being treated to a cup of coffee, being taken out to dinner, and being brought flowers.



During these post-breakup years (I'm approaching the big TWO years since THE breakup of the decade), I have been lucky enough to be treated to more than just coffee and more than just dinner. I even got treated to a whole weekend away....but I still yearned a simple but romantic gesture that I knew would move to tears...



but since the death everything moves me to tears....



One of my fantasies was to reunite with my first boyfriend and live happily ever after...or move in together...or date on a regular basis....or sleep with again once....or simply see again....that fantasy got stronger when I discovered that Yaron was separated....and living in the same part of the country as me. Although I realized his divorce was not final and that he really had no time for dating (between seeing his kids, his studies and his work), he had already been separated for a few years, and I thought maybe, soon, I'd have my chance. We met occasionally for dinner and he always complimented me. And there it ended. He'd disappear into his work, kids and his divorce proceedings and I'd disappear back into my personal rat race. I knew that he wasn't at the same stage as me...he needed to go play the field, have his first post-divorce relationship, build up his hurt male ego....and I knew to keep him as a friend ...AND THAT'S IT....



...until the death. I sat a very brief shiva at the time of the death and decided to hold an additional day of an open-house so that my friends in Israel could visit and comfort me...and the doorbell rang and in walked Yaron...with 13 red roses...a gesture of sympathy but, could it be, (and so my friends thought) ...a gesture of romance? The sexual tension was high. Yaron complimented me on my appearance and I sensed a bit of jealousy from the other men in the room. Another girlfriend present at the time, thin and fit, sensed the same tension...but it was a type of shiva, and after all, you can't have sex at a shiva, can you?



The day after the shiva, Yaron announced that his divorce was final and took me out to a romantic dinner. No rose this time, but a ring. He told me that I was the one he was waiting for the whole time and wanted to revive our relationship cut short so many years ago. My heart beat strongly as I realized that my fantasy was actually coming true.....


HEY. WHAT BLOG ARE YOU IN? IT'S NO SEX IN THE CITY!!!


(sound of cloud bursting...glass breaking.......)


The day after the shiva, Yaron called me up and I told him how moved I was to get the flowers. He said he was busy and couldn't come over but wanted to ask me a few questions.....ABOUT MY THIN GIRLFRIEND!!!!


Tough luck, Yaron, my girlfriend has a serious boyfriend, I thought. Luckily I was busy and could not extend the conversation.


A few days later, the roses wilted and this writer threw them in the garbage, but her dreams remain alive for the next drama.

Post 74: What is worse than a blind date?

Post 74: What is worse than a blind date?







On a very very hot and humid evening in Tel Aviv, some really nice and talented people got together to celebrate a friend's birthday. The location wasn't ideal and apart from M for men, the other 3 Ms that accompanied them were rather unbearable: Mugginess, mud, and mosquitoes.






The fire of the campfire kept the mosquitoes away, for the most part (most also starts with the letter m, but who is counting?) but it really was too hot for a fire. As I got a lift and didn't have to take a bus, I mustered the initiative to bring two straw mats (known as machtzelot in Hebrew. Read "Me and my machtzelet" to find out why this is (usually) a good idea).





(Ok, this is what happens when you read Dr. Suess's ABC book too many times...)





The advantage to this evening was the darkness. People can't usually tell my age or see the pimples or cold sores on my face. I actually felt and looked nice this evening, despite the enviromental factors. A guy named Meir started talking to me and despite the fact, that I usually prefer dating divorced men with children, and not bachelors, I decided to stay near him because he was a guitar player, and not a bad one at that. Plus, I had brought my guitar which I lent him. I am always amazed by the sounds semiprofessional guitar players manage to emit from my guitar. I don't do my Japanese guitar sufficient justice. So I wonder if Meir would have taken my number at the end of the evening if he didn't break my guitar string. Not only was he a guitar player, but a guitar teacher.





The next day, sure enough, Meir calls me at work and we arranged that I'd go with him on his motorcycle into Tel Aviv to have coffee and pick up my new guitar string. I hadn't been on a motorcycle for years, so this was fun. We sat at a quiet coffee house in north Tel Aviv and perused our menus. The first thing Meir did was take out a large MP3 player, or a small boom box that plays MP3s....not sure about the correct term for this device. The coffee house didn't have any background music, so why not? Ok, I thought...stramge. but at least we have similar tastes in music. I asked the waitress about the iced coffees. Meir didn't listen at all and repeated my questions. He told me that he didn't consume any sugar except for natural sugar and took out a box of dates. He did order a cup of coffee and laid the box of dates on the table. He offered the waitress and me a few dates. I actually expected him to bring out his own cutlery and coffee mug, but to my relief, he didn't.





It was obvious that Meir had some sort of communication problem, but when we spoke about music, it was ok. I learned that despite him having travelled all over the world, his English wasn't very good. You see, in Hebrew, the word "date" is tamar in Hebrew so I'm sure that he didn't understand the irony.



So what's worse than a blind date, this writer asks? She's been on many dates, but this is the first one where her date brought his own dates along.

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 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 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!

Post 54: Close Encounters of the Israeli Kind

Post 54: Close Encounters of the Israeli Kind

Until recently, my contact with aliens were residents of Israel working here illegally. I don't know a lot about science fiction. I've seen some of the more famous movies like "Close Encounters of the Third Kind", E.T. and Star Wars.

So you can imagine that I raised my eyebrow when I went to a singles workshop and met a guy who claimed to have seen aliens himself. During our first encounter, he seemed as normal (or as strange) as any other candidate that I have for dating- divorced, non-smoking, and father. When we actually had our first date, he told me about his experience channeling aliens and his therapy with them in Kadima, Israel. Without revealing his name, he is one of the people who are referred to in Adrian Dvir's book. I'll call him Benny.

The funny thing is that I was more disturbed about his disfunctional family than his encounters with aliens. There was no way that I was going to get involved with another man who did not communicate with his siblings and parents. I am seeking a partner, not a patient. I stood by my former boyfriend while he was going through therapy (only to be cheated on in the end!) and was not going to get involved again. I complained to my acupuncturist (who lives in Kadima but did not know that it had been a center for alien activity) that I am off kilter, because I continue to attract strange men into my life. She calmed me down, assuring me that perhaps I just want to help and nurture people - and it doesn't necessarily mean that I am as strange as these men.

I did succeed in saying goodbye to Benny after the first date, and recommending he see a psychologist, rather than me playing psychologist. I mean there are other guys out there, and he's not the last non-smoking divorcee on earth.

If this writer met a guy who got therapy from aliens, who knows whom she'll meet next - maybe an alien himself? Well, as long as he is divorced, educated, emotinally mature and non-smoking.

Post 50: Detach Yourself from the Wanting

created in the present, January, 2009

"Detach Yourself from the Wanting", my sister in Canada told me. Easy to say, I thought, after coming out of a three year relationship which I haven't written much about here, because this blog is about NO SEX IN THE CITY....and since I actually had sex during the past three years, I will eventually revisit the three-year era, but not when I am still recovering...healing....

I realized a few weeks ago that it enough was enough. I don't miss the ex, but I miss the GOOD parts of the relationship, which means the sex, the hugging, the kissing, the warmth. And I do NOT like being back in the singles "market", although sometimes it's nice....kind of like being in the produce section of the supermarket - so many fruit and vegetables - some are damaged, some have food coloring, some are paler, and some just melt into your hands....only problem is that I am a fire sign.....never believed much in horoscopes, but I spent the last 3 years with a guy whose birthday falls 2 days before mine...fire and fire....and it was....

And being a fire sign, it's annoying to have to go back to the "Rules" (read the books - there are Rules I and Rules II - i should be a good girl and put the links in to the websites for these books, but it's late at night, and so I am not following the proper blog etiquette - is there blog etiquette???) The other thing is that I am recovering from cataract surgery.

"Aren't you too young to be having cataract surgery?"

Answer: No

The question should be : "Do young people get cataract surgery?"

Answer: Yes

Next question I have got asked recently:

"Why don't you have wrinkles?"

Answer: I don't know, but I have cataracts,. Want to switch?

So this eye surgery had an interesting effect on me. On the one hand, I got to do a lot of walking and lost some weight, not being able to drive for a week.

On the other hand, I was CURFEWED. I am not religious and there is no public transportation on the sabbath in Israel, so I couldn't hike (and risk getting dust in my eye) and I couldn't drive. And there was one guy I knew whose children were at their mother's home this weekend....but

a. he wouldn't be able to kiss me on one side of my face
b. I couldn't drive to his place
c. he couldn't drive to my place since there was no way that I was going to introduce him to my son, giving that he was NOT going to end up being my boyfriend

So he stayed my imaginary boyfriend...back I go to the beginning of this blog, back to the year 2000 when I first thought of printing my T-shirt "I don't want a boyfriend".

My new technique to avoid blind dates, is to meet someone through the internet or through a friend and then invite him to a hike. This way, if we don't get on, we still get to enjoy the hike and meet other people at the same time....and I don't have to sit in yet another coffee house with the same ridiculous questions:

1. Why did you move to Israel?
Desired but unstated answer: Would you like to live in -40 degrees?
2. Which is better, Israel or Canada?
Desired but unstated answer: Depends - which do you prefer, missiles, terrorists, or drive by shootings.
3. Why do you still have an accent in Hebrew?
Desired but unstated answer: 'Cause I wasn't born here. Why do you have an accent in English?
4. What, you don't have ANY family in Israel?
Desired but unstated answer: No, I said that I immigrated by myself. Do you want to date me or my family?
5. Does your son see his father?
Desired but unstated answer: Not a lot, so if you ever want to meet in private, it will have to be at your place
6. What do you mean.....why doesn't he see him?
Desired but unstated answer I'll give you his phone number (my ex husband) - you can ask him.
7. Do you know that you are really nice and empathetic? Has anyone told you that?
Desired but unstated answer: You haven't seen me in the morning. And that's why we are in a dimly lit coffee shop.

I think I'll continue with this list in future posts...this is fun.

Seriously though, I actually had a blind date today. Since my eye isn't completely healed yet, I didn't wear eye makeup and I'm not allowed to pluck my eyebrows...so I just hope he doesn't notice...and I don't think he did.

My sister told me to detach myself from the wanting...but it's not a blind date that I want, but something greater, the return of fire with fire, warmth with warmth, fun with fun, and hugs and kisses that really mean something mutual, not a motion to lead to sex, but of true mutual compassion.

Will this writer get a second date? And does she even want one? She thinks her next date will be with the eye surgeon who can really see things as they are.....

Post 47: Sweat Lodge goes Urban

flashback to October, 2005

After the festival was over, my son and I returned to central Israel and Arie and his sons returned to their Galilee town. I continued my succot holiday with my son and friends in the Dead Sea area, visiting Ein Gedi and Massada, far from the would-be hippies I had left near the Sea of Gailee.

I checked my messages that weekend at home to find one from Arie. He told me how much he enjoyed meeting me and wished me a good trip in the Dead Sea. After a few phone calls back and forth over the next week or so, he told me that he was going to a Sweat Lodge ceremony in Tivon, an hour south of where he lived and thought he would visit me. Well, to drive to my city from Tivon in northern Israel is another hour drive, making his commute approximately two-hours. I got the hint. It wasn't a matter of 'I'm going to be in your area", but the Sweat Lodge was an excuse for "I'm going to be closer to your area and will make the extra effort to see you if you give me the green light".

So I did. I had a subscription to the theater in Tel Aviv. To my delight, as well as hiking and new age workshops, he also liked classical music, theater, jazz and reading. Later I was to discover at his apartment old records, yes, vinal records of Neil Young, Cat Stevens, among others.

My son conveniently ended up staying at friends on that Friday night.

And that's how it all began.

This writer finally had a boyfriend that met all her criteria - non-smoking, divorced, and with children - and this time the boyfriend was not imaginary.

Post 46: No Sex in the Tent

flashback to October, 2005

On the northeast side of the Sea of Galilee, during the Succot holidays, I spent a few days with Arie and his sons, Erez and Alon at the Breshit (Genesis) Festival. Born in the sixties, I was too young to be a hippy and too old to be Generation X. I was born just after the baby boomers, between generations.

I typed my essays in university on a typewriter and learned word-processing on a computer on the job. The first time I saw a fax machine was during one of my first temp jobs. I didn't fear technology because it was in its infancy. and I didn't fear new age workshops, as my mother had already been involved with the new age movement in Canada in the 70s. We just didn't know it was the new age then.

I discovered music of the 60s in the 70s, and the 70s in the 80s, always feeling I had just missed the train. Although the festival was full of teenagers, there were some families and I was happy to have hooked up with a divorced man and his sons. What I didn't expect was the intensity of the rain! My son and I had pitched our tent in the family area, about a kilometer walk from Arie and his sons' camping area.

On the second day of the festival, my son and I awoke to a downpour. The food court area was drenched. The workshop area was soaked. One of the only warm place was in the lake itself...but until we got there, we visited Arie in his home away from home. He had hooked his appliances up to the electricity of the staff area and made us coffee and tea. He had a foldup table and chairs, two or three tents, one for each of his sons and enough food to feed us as well as his offspring.

With nothing to do, my son entered ten-year old Alon's tent, and Arie offered to play backgammon with me in his tent. I beat him at the first few games, but Alon told my son that I spent the entire time having sex with his father in the tent.

This writer did not know that backgammon had sexual overtones.