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 28: Dodging the Married Men

originally created as Column Twenty-eight, August, 2001

My friends tell me that I am too picky. I keep insisting that I want to go out with divorced men, preferably with a child or two. So I tried to keep an open mind and date divorced men without children, but that didn’t work. I even fell for a bachelor who barely talks to me anymore. I met a widower whom I never dated but he’s now dating a widow, which proves that the theory of parallel marital status actually works sometimes.

As I wrote in post 26, I am not prepared to date women, and of course, almost all my friends know that my absolute red lines are smokers and married men. Lately all I meet are married men. First of all, a very nice and intelligent guy strikes up a conversation with me at the dentist. He mentions his grown children, his work, his city of residence, but not his wife. How perfect – someone who takes care of his teeth as much as I do. Definitely dentally compatible (Probably a good kisser and no worries about bad breath!) I am thrilled that I have discovered a divorced guy but am too embarrassed to leave my phone number, so I call the dental hygienist at work the next day, who tells me that he is “very married”. (Oops. My mistake – and I had already envisioned future discounts on joint dental insurance). All the “good” ones are taken or gay. No, it can’t be true. If there is one divorce in three, where do the men go? Are they swallowed up by an alimony hole in the earth? Do the young thin female vultures stand on the other side of the divorce court and swoop down as soon as the divorce is final? Or are they all finding themselves in the Far East while their ex-wives take care of the children?

Consoling myself about my wrong diagnosis of the charming dental patient, I keep my mind off the lack of boyfriend situation and immerse myself in swimming and in my career. So who starts up with me at work? A married man who is also a smoker!!!! Why, why , why is this happening to me now?! Finally someone finds me attractive who is actually not an unidentified typing object behind a keyboard and he checks off in category zero. For thirty-eight years I’ve managed to avoid married men, and now, out of nowhere this guy shows up. I am not into S&M – that’s right, smokers and married. Is desperation showing all over my face? Help! I’ve made my position shown in no uncertain terms, and yet he finds it very amusing. If he doesn’t stop the flirting, then I can always complain about sexual harassment, but he does have a family to support! At least it’s summer, so it’s too hot to cuddle up to any male, available or not. Maybe I’ll forget about boyfriends all together and get a dog – neutered of course.

This writer has decided to wear a wedding ring, hang a picture of an imaginary husband on her bulletin board, and wait... maybe some divorced father will think she’s married and start up with her.