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 12: Imaginary Boyfriend

originally created as Column Twelve, November, 2000

Imaginary Boyfriend


I have had a really great boyfriend for the past year. He’s always available to join me as a date for a wedding or other social event where “couples” are called for. He’s a great partner in a hotel bed, and doesn’t steal my blanket. He’s a great listener and a respectable male role model for my son. He sits in the front seat of my car next to me. He doesn’t make comments about my driving, and he doesn’t object when I stop and ask someone for directions. He doesn’t drop socks in my living room, or leave dishes in my kitchen sink. He is never late and he never forgets my birthday.

The problem is that he is fictitious, but at least he doesn’t complain that I am using him. At least I know that when there is no sex in the city and no real dates, there is always my imaginary boyfriend. Now, if I could just get him to pay some child support, he’d be even better than an ex husband! My brother says that children are just expensive house pets, so what’s a boyfriend?

This writer has been accused of being a relationship addict. What nonsense! She never thinks about boyfriends. She never invents boyfriends. She never fantasizes about boyfriends, and she never, ever writes about boyfriends.