Post 65: Sabra attacked by a sabra

Post 65: Sabra attacked by a sabra

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

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

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

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

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

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

Post 45: Finding a Haven Despite the Teenagers

flashback to october, 2005

Arie and his exwife named their children according to the same letter of the alphabet - the Hebrew letter aleph - Alma, Erez and Alon. The first one I met was the Alon, the ten year old.

Arie and Alon greeted us near the main gate of the festival area. After a kilometer walk from the family camping area, we found our meeting place and introduced ourselves. Arie and I had met a week or so earlier at a party. I didn't know if he was coming with a girlfriend or by himself, but I was happy to see a familiar face and even happier that my son would have some company among the hippies who seemed to have forgotten that there are no more hippies left. We decided to go the the evening performances together, featuring Israeli artists - not mainstream but not too alternative either. This suited me fine.

Arie had half his house with him. He had even set hooked up some of his appliances to the electric system of the festival employees. The reason he was set up in the staff section is that his 15 year old, Erez, was working in the children's area, helping with ceramics and other activities. Erez was apparently hanging out with his teenage peers, while Arie, Alon and my son hung out together, listening to the likes of Mika Karni and the sons of the late Meir Ariel. A few groups had cancelled because of the impending rain, but we didn't care.

This writer realized that she was actually having fun at this festival despite it being invaded by teenagers.

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 10: Wedding Ring for Sale

originally posted as column ten, November, 2000


A couple is engaged. The invitations have been printed, the bride’s dress has been altered and the groom’s suit has been bought. Although by Jewish law only the woman needs an object of value (usually a wedding ring) for the religious ceremony, the man often gets one too, as a tradition, as a symbol of partnership. I am yours and you are mine. We are devoted to each other. We will not cheat on each other. We will wear the rings proudly and show the world that we are spoken for. The religious women cover their hair. The more modern orthodox or secular women leave their hair uncovered but wear wedding rings.

Or so I thought. It seems that some just find them uncomfortable and keep them at home or in safety deposit boxes. As for the men, some work in more physical jobs than women do. I’m not being sexist, but there are more men working as electricians, plumbers and painters than there are women. The ring is not to stop the married men from having affairs, but at least those women not wanting to get involved with married men can sometimes tell that they are married. I don’t think it’s fair that some married men do not wear wedding rings.

A friend of mine tells me to stop going on blind dates and to pick up men on the street, in playgrounds, shopping centers, cafes, at red lights. So when I see a man with a child or two in the playground or in a shopping center, the problem is that I look at his hand and I don’t know if he’s married, divorced, widowed, single or gay. Chances are that if he is particularly good looking, he is probably gay, but there are not that many gay men, as far as I know with children. It is becoming more common, but usually I seem to run into married men. They look like great fathers. Sometimes their wives emerge from behind the trees, or come waltzing down the sidewalk with a stroller and a small baby.

As I said, it’s just not fair. If the married men and women refuse to wear their wedding rings, then it is about time for the divorced men and women to have some sort of sign. Perhaps a certain colored sock? A tattoo? (Not a good idea – what if they remarry?) Hair dyed an unusual color (blue for a broken marriage?) A hat...or the t-shirt I mentioned in one of my earlier posts (post 1) – I don’t want a boyfriend. It seems so easy to start a conversation about a man’s child or dog, but how do you pick the right guy to talk to? Until you build up the nerve, he is off with another woman. You know the type. She doesn’t try, but gets the guy. I’m through with trying, although I never really started.

That’s why I’m writing. I figure if I write long enough about it I might create this reality, and maybe we wouldn’t need friends, matchmakers or the internet to set us up. We could go to trips for singles and know each person’s status. Perhaps the men should walk around with little computer screens around their heads with their marital status, smoking and dietary habits flashing as subtitles.

When I was twelve I didn’t think any boy would ever like me, and would like any boy who so much paid the slightest bit of attention to me. I remained a virgin until an age I do not yet wish to disclose. Maybe those teenage boys should have had signs at the school dances and I wouldn’t have been so shy. The sign could have read “I have a crush on....”

So it’s groping in the dark when you’re looking for a serious relationship. If you just want sex, I guess, then just put on a wedding ring.

This writer wore her wedding and engagement rings throughout her marriage. Today, most of the rings around her are from her telephones.