Post 82: Employee Reviews for Couples

Employee Reviews for Couples

Jakob, a  friend of mine,  agreed to collaborate with me on a few blog posts.

In Jakob's ideal world, couples will have mandatory counselling, at least once a year, with an objective and qualified psychologist, social worker, or relationship counsellor. But unlike couples who go to counsellors only when their marriage is at the point of no return, new couples will be treated to a once a year review similar to what employers and employees undertake. From my experience, human resource departments are good about enforcing annual reviews between employers and employees, but don't necessarily follow up on the results. For both the employee and employer, this provides an opportunity to review the year's objectives and also examine the "SWOT" - strength, weaknesses, opportunities and threats.

Jakob's not the only one who thinks that couples treat their cars better than each other. Iris Baron, an Israeli sexologist and radio personality (link is in Hebrew), often mentions that people have a strong awareness about having to take their cars for regular checkups, tests, and tuneups, when necessary by law. Cars that don't pass their annual tests are removed from the roads by police. She also thinks that couples, by law, should be taught proper financial planning and other skills, in order to prevent divorce.  I heard in South Africa, you need to go to counselling before you can get married.  I wonder if the divorce rate is lower there than in Canada, the U.S. or Israel.

But couples aren't forced to seek counselling or get divorced by law. It usually happens as a last straw. According to Jacob, an annual Employee Review for Couples would definitely improve the status of relationships, at least in Israel. Couples get used to their routine and will often bottle up how they feel about each other, or else let it all out in the form of criticism that may start as bantering, follow through to pestering and end up at downright insulting. Children cannot hold a relationship together if a couple is not connected spiritually through effective communication. Jakob also thinks that even if a couple does split up, at least it will do so through awareness and maturity. Divorce will then not come as a big surprise but as a step when nothing else works.

It's true that our needs change as we grow, but people generally remain the same. Can values also change? People don't change that much after marriage, but their reactions can change, especially if affected by factors including but not limited to education, employment, children, aging parents, . Sometimes the values and goals of individuals before getting together conflict right from the beginning. But how do you know that if no one has evaluated the relationship objectively before you started?

So what would the annual review entail? Jakob's vision is that the counsellor would ask the couple to come prepared to the review with the answers to questions such as:

• What worked this past year?
• What didn't work?
• Did you meet your objectives personally and as a couple?
• How do you view money? Where do you want to spend money this year? Vacation? Studies? Having a child? Renovating an apartment? Is there anyway you can cut back? Has your attitude changed in the past year?
  
• Are you prepared to work extra hours so that your spouse can spend more time with your children and cut back on her/his hours?
• Do you want to study?
• Is your sex life satisfactory? Both in terms of frequency, quality, variation?
• Travel? Hobbies?
• How much time do you want alone, with family, with friends and together?

Relationship counselling isn't new, but too many people think that you only go to counselling when something is wrong. Why not look at the Employee Review for Couples as an opportunity to celebrate the strengths, achievements, or simply good times spent together as well as a chance to make things even better in the future and prepare to deal with the open issues.

This writer knows that a relationship is more than a business. But why not think out of the box while the box itself is still sturdy?

Post 80: Frustrating Funeral

Post 80: Frustrating Funeral

This post has nothing to do with sex, but maybe everything to do with no sex. If I got as many invitations to dates as I did to go to the shiva, I'd have an amazing dating schedule.  I attended the funeral and shiva of an acquaintance who lost her battle with cancer.  She wasn't a close friend, but I was in touch with her and visited her and the people whom I met through her are close friends to this day.  I won't write her name here as I change the people and identifying factors.  Despite my respect for Jewish tradition, I just about verbally attacked the Rabbi who showed up at the shiva.  He did not know the age or reason for the death but tried to comfort the family members and friends there by saying that G-d created everything for a reason. There is even a reason for weeds (and moquitoes, and cockroaches, I thought.)  But I didn't want to upset the household.  It wasn't my daughter/aunt/sister who died.  But I wanted to ask him, what is the USE of a cancer cell.  What does it give the people or animals on this earth, other than some income for oncologists and lab researchers?  I'm sure this has been asked before and "believers" are supposed to take the leap of faith and think that there was a reason for her premature death and a purpose for the cancer to strike.  Twice....



Well, I don't buy it.  The only thing her death did is for us to put things into perspective...and the only thing I could come up was anger, in this poem.  It's a little childish, a little angry, but that's how this writer feels:


The only thing I know
Is that when I go
I do not want to suffer so
I want to glow until the end
Don't want to show illness to my friends
Just sing and dance and make them laugh
Until they write my epitaph

So why are people so in shock?
Did they ever think to call or knock?
Denying what was going on
Until they reached the cemetary gate
Then apologizing on Facebook, when it was too late.

But denial is human
And human means you're alive
Not for me to judge as I survive
This world of hurdles, high and low
And this writer knows nothing, that's what I know.

Column 79: September Boy Blues

Column 79: September Boy Blues

The new school year has started and the Jewish high holidays are approaching. On the one hand, people are looking to hook up because they are fed up of everyone in their family asking them when they are getting married, having kids, etc. On the other hand, the commitment shy ones run away when something good comes their way. So what was I thinking? As I told you int he last column, Yaniv is a bachelor and the chances of him having a real relationship were not high from day one. Still, he has turned out to be a fun male friend to have around, and a friend with benefits if I do so desire, and can find a place and time. That's kind of complicated when you are in a non committed physical relationship, but there are solutions to everything when it comes to matters of the heart, or hormones, as the case may be.

Today, you can order a computer built according to your needs - memory, operating system, speed, size. You can get the best sum of the parts and therefore control that you know what you're getting right from the start. But in a man, this isn't (yet) possible, and what you see is not always what you get.

So Yaniv came and went, disappointed me by not showing up to a play I was in, not calling and then calling. I played it cool so he wouldn't feel pressured, and that worked well, until I realized I needed more and deserved to be with someone who at least communicated a bit better. Turns out, like many men his age who have never been married, that he doesn't want to take the relationship to the next step and isn't sure what he wants. Fine, we'll be friends (great, just what I need, another single male friend) and I planned a great, fun filled weekend of hiking, food, and music, not taking him into account. He did attend some of the activities but he went as an individual, not as my partner or date. I did want to have another kid after my divorce, but I don't need one in his mid-forties. It was a nice experience, but he has gone to my collection of intelligent, fun, talented, men, who are simply not boyfriend material. I wish I could take the parts that I cherish with me to my next computer, rather, boyfriend.

So for a guy who can't send a simple text message to say whether or not he is showing up at a picnic, Yaniv suddenly calls me yesterday, at work, to tell me about a discount coupon for renting a car during the holidays. The deal was so attractive, I was thrilled.

This writer doesn't have a boyfriend with whom to spend the Jewish New Year, but she has wheels!

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 70: Cinderella on Chanukah

Cinderella on Chanukah

Chanukah did not start festively at all for me this year. Unemployed, no car, no boyfriend. I even lost my friend with benefits who started to see someone else and suggested we return to being “just friends”. The timing could not be worse in Israel. Winter is the season when it’s colder inside than it is outside. To warm up, I sleep with 4 blankets, 3 stuffed animals and a partridge in a pear tree ….ooops, wrong religion…

Back to Chanukah. It started with a medical procedure that took a whole morning, drugged me out and left me completely exhausted for the entire evening. I insisted that my son go to accept his father’s invitation to light the first candle and sleep overnight. As Murphy law has it, my bed stays empty when my son is away, which is why this blog is called No Sex in the City. It just doesn’t happen when you want it to happen.

In this case, partially dehydrated and partially stoned with valium (can you be stoned with valium or only with hashish? I don’t know because I am a good girl and law-abiding person, who always stayed away from drugs except for the occasional glass of wine). I did once have laughing gas for a tooth extract. It just occurred to me that there may be some religious people taking a look at this blog, and I promised that it was “clean” with no pornography, so how did I allow drugs to creep in here?

But then again Gilit may be my pen name, but she is allowed to do things that I have not. In fact, when someone recently reminded me about Boris in Russia, I forgot that he was real. It seems that when he told me that he would no longer write to me and shut me out of his life, I wrote about him and committed him to fiction as well. Wow, he was real? He really did say that he loved me, even though my definition of love (stay tuned for a post about the meaning of love) is quite different from his. If you really love someone, you are not going to forget them even if they do not love you back.

I’ve strayed away from Chanukah, so let me go back to that first night. There I was alone, tired, dehydrated, and generally mixed up. My adoptive mother was dying in a Tel Aviv hospital (from cancer) and I knew it was a matter of days before the inevitable phone call. At 10:30 am the next morning, my cellphone rang. Now everyone knows that I am either hiking or asleep on a Saturday morning. Or else I have religious friends who don’t use the phone on Shabbat in any case. Therefore, I knew exactly why the phone was ringing. This time it wasn’t the valium or a dream, but the real thing. “Mom is gone”, Dafna announced, in a matter of fact voice.

And so began my Chanukah. I helped Dafna put up the death notices in her neighborhood. It’s good to know that the municipality gives out scotch tape together with the signs. That’s one less thing to buy before a funeral, I guess. I didn’t cry much that day and neither did Dafna. I guess we thought that her mother was still in the hospital and we’d see her soon. Or maybe in the shower. Or sneaking another cigarette in the kitchen before joining us for a cup of coffee.

On Monday I had to sign into the unemployment bureau and then meet my son on the bus on the way to the cemetery. Nice day for a funeral. Dafna’s mother was a former school principal and didn’t want children to miss school on her behalf. So she died during a school holiday. My son was not impressed. Last year he ate up all the latkes she had made and he promised to bake a batch himself to bring to the Passover seder. This year, none of us baked latkes. Dafna lit Chanukah candles and a memorial candle. Instead of buying a plant to bring to the family dinner at her house, I brought a plant to her graveside. I wanted to sing James Taylor’s “Fire and Rain” at the funeral, but there was no way I would be able to get the words out. Instead the rain spoke for itself from the sky (but spared us at the funeral) and the fire came from the candles which I continued to light each night.

Since I wasn’t sitting shiva, I was determined to find a glimmer of hope during the holiday. On Wednesday, I got another rejection from a job interview, but I wasn’t sad. Now it was all clear to me. The funeral was over. The shiva was almost over. And now I had no excuse but to get on with my life. Land that job. Find a boyfriend. Buy a new car (or get a leased one from work).

So I braved a sandstorm and met a friend in Tel Aviv who was studying makeup and used me as a guinea pig. Actually, I trusted her completely and she created a Cinderella. Even though my train got stuck (Israeli trains are NOT Swiss trains) and I had to get out of the train and take a bus home, I was determined to forget about the funeral, my unemployment, and my lack of boyfriend, and get NOTICED at a Chanukah party.

And so I did. It was unbelievable. Men who didn’t give me the time of day were asking me to dance. Women who forgot my name came across the room to talk to me. No one seemed to remember me from the year before. It didn’t matter that I was unemployed, had just been at a funeral, or didn’t have a car. What mattered was that I was now almost a blonde and that I had a personal makeup artist turn me into another person.

It felt a bit like the old days when I was an amateur actress. I was in the limelight (even literally, as I was wearing a green dress) for the evening, but at the end of the day, when the audience went home, my theatrical mask got removed and it was only me. At the end of the night, no Prince Charming rescued my slipper.

Perhaps because this writer was wearing boots.

Post 69: Historical and Religious Land of Israel: Year Round Tourist Destination

I’ve lived in Israel for more than half my life, and rarely take it for granted. I relish in the vast variety of natural, historical and religious sites that this country possesses. For those of you who don’t live here, I’d recommend checking out Flights to Tel Aviv which is a good place to visit and enjoy the beaches, night life, museums, art galleries, and dance performances. Hebrew, Arabic and English are the official languages of Israel, but you can get along with Russian, French, or Spanish. If you want to leave politics and religion behind, stay in Tel Aviv, whereas if you’re a religious and historical buff, you can spend your entire vacation in Jerusalem, a holy city for Christians, Jews, and Muslims alike. Whichever city you choose in central Israel as your home-base, you’ll be thrilled to know that the scenery changes constantly, and you can make a lot of day trips reaching scenic destinations within an hour or two by car as diverse as deserts, waterfalls (both in northern and southern Israel), pine forests (Galilee), and prehistoric caves (Carmel). You can visit the world famous Dead Sea, the lowest point on earth, or venture off the beaten track to Machtesh Ramon, a breathtaking geological formation resembling a crater. My favorite time to hike is in the spring when the wildflowers are in bloom, but there is no shortage of things to see and do, depending on your interests, no matter what time of the year you visit.

This writer has lived in Israel for more than 22 years and still has not seen it all.

* sponsored post

Post 66: Not Exactly Aleksandr Petrovsky

I've been writing the columns that predated this blog since 2000, and sometimes I feel as though I have played every character in the series "Sex and the City", except that I'm chubbier, poorer, and don't wear brand names, to mention a few differences.....

I met Boris in 2000, through a Jewish dating site, and traveled with him and my son a bit in Israel, when he was visiting from Russia. I knew that he was quite taken with me even then, but I did not want to have a "fling" with him in Israel. At the time, I would have gotten too attached and it would have bothered me from going out with other guys. However, we kept in touch throughout the years by email, and I was proud of him as he advanced in his career path, which I won't detail here so as to protect his privacy.

He kept inviting me to visit him in Russia and I refused for one or more of the following reasons:

1. I had a boyfriend
2. I couldn't leave my son
3. I didn't have enough vacation from work

Year after year, I repeated the same excuses until the following happened:

1. I no longer had a boyfriend
2. My son was old enough to stay overnight by himself or with friends and/or with his father
3. I was unemployed...therefore with LOTS of vacation from work.

Boris spoke and wrote excellent English and his communication was loud and clear. "We can be friends or we can have romance while you are here. Whatever you decide, I will respect you".

Great, I thought. I warned him that I snored. I thanked him for his honesty. I was glad that we cleared this up before, and I hinted that I thought we would "get along well" while we were there. I remembered that he was attracted to me and I remembered that I was indifferent - that I was not turned off, but not head over heels. Not exactly Aleksandr Petrovsky, the Carrie’s Russian boyfriend played by Mikhail Baryshnikov in the sixth season of Sex and the City.

So I flew for a week to Moscow.

I paid for the flight, but Boris insisted on paying for everything else, even if I had chosen to avoid physical contact. He met me at the airport and drove with me and a driver to his apartment. As we got out of the elevator, he told me to be quiet, so as not to wake the others. “What others?”

Turns out that Moscow is one of the most expensive cities in the world, not because of the price of food or paper goods (which I found considerably less expensive than in Tel Aviv), but because of housing. So Boris, despite being successful in his career, was waiting for his apartment in the suburbs to be completed, and in the meantime, rented a room in central Moscow. The other room was rented out to three nannies from the Ukraine.

“You didn’t tell me you had flatmates”, I told Boris.

“You didn’t ask”, he replied.

He also didn’t tell me there was no living room and no other mattress in his room. Therefore, I had no choice but to share his bed. Also, there was no blanket, despite it being about 15 degrees outside. Coming from nights of 30 degrees, I was cold! The only covering he had was a curtain. Therefore, the only way I could warm up was body heat. So one thing led to another, and before I knew it, Boris was “in love” with me and talking about a future. When I said “why can’t we enjoy the week together”, he got angry and told me that I was using him, and could not stand my behavior.

I managed to calm him down, but he acted up again a few times, and although I had a credit card, money and a cellphone, Boris wouldn’t hear of me wandering around Moscow myself. So he calmed down for a few days but then got upset again on the last night.
I did manage to enjoy my time in Moscow, despite the surprise from my friend who had promised to “respect me no matter what I decided”. I did not know that my decision to touch him made me committed to a long distance relationship with me.

He made me promise to call him immediately upon my return to Israel. I did, and sent him a follow up email, explaining again that I would help him during his visits to Israel in the future, but that my life was here (in Israel) and I wanted a boyfriend who LIVED in Israel. He didn't like my explanation, and told me to delete the pictures I had taken and not contact him ever again.

And although I don’t believe in “love at first sight/touch”, it was very moving to hear a man say he loved me, the first time in, perhaps ten years. (My last boyfriend did love me but had too many emotional problems to say it to my face. Yes, we are no longer together). On the other hand, it could have ended much worse, like with Carrie and Aleksandr - when she got upset, he slapped her. Then again, she had Mr. Big to rescue her and take her back to New York.

When a man behaves like a woman, run away….. but if you have nowhere to run to, what do you do? Maybe it’s better to travel to Europe with a girlfriend.

This writer says make sure your travel companion is straight, and make sure that the bed you’re going to sleep in is equipped with a warm, thick blanket rather than a warm, emotional man!

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 64: The mat and me

Post 64: The mat and me



When you go to a party or event, who are the women and men that turn heads? There are the extremely fat ones....perhaps you console yourself and think "wow, I'm not that fat" or you feel disgust "how did he let himself get so large without doing anything about it" or pity "wow, she has such a pretty face. Maybe she had to take steroids or has a thyroid problem. I bet she's a wonderful person on the inside"....then there are the "cusiot"...I really was shocked when this slang term came out in Israel for beautiful, sexy women. They used to be called simply "hatichot" (pieces) but then a particular piece of female anatomy was added to the slang. The young Israelis didn't let the word go. Instead they added a male equivalent (but still using the reference to the female vagina) and called a great looking man a "cuson". Since I haven't been living in Canada for more than 20 years, I don't know what the most updated term is. We used to call these guys "hunks".



The point is that the other type of head turners are "cusiot". And they know it. They have a slim figure, thin but not skeletal looking, and a big chest, but not out of proportion. Their hair is straight and long,, rarely curly, and their makeup is also in place. Their mascara doesn't run and their lipstick seems to stay on even after they drink coffee.. ..a walking wax doll......



If they don't smile, men won't necessarily approach them, but if they do flash a smile or two, they won't be sitting alone. Another variation is simply a tall thin woman with lots of self-confidence who simply knows that she attracts men and doesn't have to do anything except appear at a party.....but she's less of a head turner.



With the men, it doesn't operate the same way. The good looking guys may come off arrogant and the women will run the other way. But if a good looking guy appears who is also a little bit shy and modest and smiles at everyone around, the women will often fall to their feet. These guys will treat the "cusiot" the same as the chubby or obese women and the same as the short women with adult acne.



Then there are the musicians. Since I have a weakness for them, almost any guy playing an instrument (especially guitar) will allure me. All of a sudden I forget whether he is divorced, smokes, is educated, or even stable.....if he shows me some attention, I'm a goner. (I usually calm down when I do a reality check).



There are also unusual people. Some bring gimmicks - babies (their own or their nephews/nieces), cute dogs, or even a parrot. Yup, there is a guy I know who brings his parrot to parties. The parrot quietly rests on his shoulder during the evening or he lends him out to other people.



Those have you who have been reading this blog for awhile know a few things about me. I'm not a "cusit". I am not tall and thin and have curly, unkept hair. I don't smoke. I don't have a baby or a dog or a parrot. But there is one thing I have that not too many people have at these picnic gatherings I often go to....a mat!!!



In Hebrew it's called a "machtzelet" - it's those large flat rugs, made of straw-like material. It's sturdier than a blanket and great to use when you need a comfortable surface on which to sit. So if you don't like sitting on antholes and bird droppings, you will happily gravitate to a machtzelet.



When I first bought my machtzelet on sale, I didn't realize what power it would give me. I kept in my car and started bringing it to events. Wow. People started sitting next to me. If someone started to smoke, I could send them away "please smoke somewhere else. This is my machtzelet". When it was time to go, everyone had to get up, and so I was noticed, because I had to pack up the "machtzelet". If people sat in front of me, I could move closer up and move them to the back of the machtzelet, cause it was mine!



This writer doesn't need to be a 'cusit'. She has a machtzelet!

Post 60: Women in Black and the Witch Hunt

The following post has been submitted for Scribbit's May write-away-contest with the subject of spring. By coincidence, I just posted the following which is a story that took place in the spring...we're still officially in spring anyway....

Post 60: Women in Black and the Witch Hunt

This post is not about the women's organization that protests war in Israel or any other part of the world. It's about women wearing black and not standing out in the crowd. Iris Baron, a sexologist and marriage counsellor (link is to her Hebrew site) often mentions the issue of women wearing black at events, meetings, parties. etc. Many women wear black because they think it is slimming. What happens in effect is that in a room full of women, they are almost always wearing black, and therefore do not stand out in a crowd. Iris doesn't say that you have to wear 10 different colors (like I do, but that's another story) but she says if you have to wear black, break it with something else - a yellow scarf, a pink pendant, a tourquoise vest......something!

Therefore, a few months ago, I was invited to a costume party for Purim, which is a Jewish holiday that takes place in the spring. I wasn't thrilled about going to this party which would feature a loud d.j. and music that would probably not be my style, judging by the person who organized the party. I also knew that this party would attract approximately 40 women and 20 men,, with most of the men coming in couples - not with each other, but boyfriend and girlfriend. On the positive side, this group of people consists of mainly divorced women and men with children, in their 40s and 50s - a nice, friendly, huggy bunch who will be happy to greet you as if you are their best friends, even though you haven't seen them for several months. To top it off, my friend, Nili, recently separated, likes dancing and started to realize that she has to socialize in different circles than she did when she was married. Picnicking with her daughters and nieces is great family bonding but on the weekends when her daughters are with her ex husband, she started to go out to singles events as well.

So I picked up Nili at her house. She was dressed in a witch costume, totally black. I was dressed in a Mexican costume, all colored with a poncho and sombrero, and underneath it, I had on a bright green, sexy but flattering dress. I knew there were not going to be very many men at this party, but if there were, I wanted to make sure that I was noticed. After all, it was Purim. Time to celebrate, get drunk, be happy. Nili was looking forward to seeing the group of people and was actually happy that there were not going to be potential "boyfriends" as her attitude was that it takes one month to recover from each year of a relationship. Therefore, she would be "over" her marriage and ready to date in two years. In the meantime, she figured that no man would be looking at her, and so she could relax. Wearing the black, I assumed, even though she was a witch, simply added to her attitude of wanting to disappear from men.

We arrived at the party and sure enough....loud music....and I was wrong. Instead of 40 women and 20 men, there were 50 women and 10 men. Out of the 10 men, about 5 came in couples, 2 looked about 70 years old, 2 looked like Frankenstein, but didn't need a costume and one was very good looking. The good looking one walked into the living room where the dancing was taking place, and immediately starting flirting with Nili. Nili got frightened and walked away.

I didn’t like the music, so I sat in the room between the kitchen and living room where I could sit quietly and observe the witch hunt as well. The Mystery Man, (let’s call him MMM) went into the kitchen but Nili had already gone back to the living room to dance. Nili sat at the left hand side of a two-seater couch. MMM sat next to her. Nili felt that there was someone on her right but didn’t turn to face him. Instead, she sat up and turned her body 45 degrees away from him. MMM remained patiently. And so this continued all night long, until I was fed up.

“Nili, we are NOT leaving this party until you say hello to him”

Nili: But….but…but…

Gilit: No buts. You don’t have to marry him. You don’t have to sleep with him. You don’t have to date him. You just have to say hello. He has been following you around all evening and you are acting like a total snob!

We then gathered our belongings and walked into the front yard on the way to my car. MMM was already waiting for Nili. She finally said bye to him and they started to talk. I did an about face and started to talk with the first random woman I found on the balcony.

When I saw that the coast was clear and they appeared to be finished their conversation, I collected my black witch friend and walked with her back to my car. The witch was in total shock. Like magic, I saw that something small and rectangle was her palm. It was MMM’s business card, complete with credentials, phone numbers and email.

Iris’s theory about wearing black didn’t work that well this evening. For MMM, Nili was the only woman for him. And the green dress didn’t do anything for this writer except feeling green with envy. There is a book called “Why Men Marry Bitches” – I guess Witches can apply as well.

‭‮

Post 58: Walk Me to My Car (Please)

Post 58: Walk Me to My Car (Please)

Despite the recession that has also hit Israel, there seems to be a LOT of parties going on, especially this month, for the occasion of the Jewish holiday of Purim. Perhaps with the high rate of unemployment, less people have to get up for work the next day and can stay up late.

One of the Purim events I went to was a musical performance in Tel Aviv. I sat on pillows and mattresses in a room full of people, mainly single, and mostly in their thirties and forties. The atmosphere there was very intimate and I really enjoyed the performance of the singer, floutist, and guitar player. I assume there was percussion as well, although I can't recall. The performers were dressed up in Purim costumes, as were some of the members of the audience.

After the performance, some of the people there drank a little bit too much and headed by foot to grab something to eat. They were mostly single people who didn't have to get up the next morning for work. I asked one of them to walk me back to my car. A little tipsy, my friend told the woman at his side, that he was walking me home (instead of to my car). She was a bit confused, but walked with him, another women, and two other bachelor men.

I had parked my car in a lot of a garage that was deserted in the evenings, so it was rather creepy to walk back there alone. So it was kind of funny that I didn't get much of a chance to talk to people after the performance, and just at the last minute, as I had 5 escorts to my car, I had the opportunity to meet new people. One had recognized me from playing the guitar on a hike we had been on. The other was impressed by my car, which I said was not mine, but belonged to the hitech company I worked for.

This writer slept in her own bed, alone, that night, but had five people walk back to her car alone and gave her a good night hug.

Post 57: Grown up and Homeless

Post 57: Grown up and Homeless (or "All Dressed up and Nowhere to Go")

What do you do when you live with your son and you want to meet (in private) with a man who has custody of his children? Ideally, you wait until both of your children or at your exspouse's home? But if that spouse rarely sees his/her children, it can get tricky. And what do widows and widowers do? I suppose if they have family in Israel, they can arrange to have their children stay with their parents/grandparents.

However, what do you tell your teenaged children? That you have a "sex' date? No way....that you have someone staying over in order in the guest room because he is doing some work on the apartment the next day, and wants to get an early start and miss traffic? Plumbing? Fixing the computer? Ahh, but then he should be in the guest room....and how would you explain him ending up in your own room...it's simply not an option.....ideally, when you have a "real" relationship, you can simply say "my boyfriend is staying over tonight"....but you aren't going to reach that status in one day.....you first have to date...and if you are a "Rules" girl, and don't go to bed on the first (or second, or third, or.....?) date, you still aren't going to tell your children about it....

Recently, a former "fuck buddy" of mine moved back in with his parents, temporarily, to save money. He's now dating someone, who has her own place, so he's ok, but supposing we were back together for human warmth purposes...it just would be impossible.

This writer doesn't have to face this issue anymore, but hopefully she will meet a nice guy with his own place soon, before the snow in the Golan melts.....(the Golan has absolutely nothing to do with this post, but I thought I'd throw it in anyway. The point is that the nights are still cold!)

Post 56: It's Raining Women

Post 56: It's Raining Women

The best thing that actually happened at the 'singles' workshop that I went to a few months ago was meeting a new friend whom I'll call Nili. Nili works in my neighborhood and is also full of energy and open to meeting new people and ideas, even if they aren't always fun or successful. We have been spending so much time together recently, that I've been calling her one of my "wives". I'm not planning to change my sexual preference to women, but the number of single women (both divorced or never married) in their forties is really astounding.

But we gain power and self-esteem knowing that we are not alone, and that we can have fun even in the absence of men...and to be honest, sometimes more fun, (though not the physical kind)....

I think that a lot has to do with the fact that I have been abandoned or I myself have "dropped" people from my lives....yes, it hurts at times. Some I miss more - some I do not miss at all, but in their place have entered some amazing people -men and women. I know this is corny, but I am really blessed by virtual (Web-based) and real friends...I have introduced them to each other and this has created a domino effect. "Hey, Gilit', I thought you knew a lot of people, but after meeting Nili, Sherrri, Mali, etc. etc., I realize that whomever you don't know, they know!"

To be honest, this has been fun, but also exhausting. The funny thing is that when we specifically go to events targeted to meet single men, we end up meeting more women. Or at least I do. The other night, when I was at a Purim party, the d.j. played the song "It's Raining Men".

With about 50 women and 10 men at the said party, this writer sang "It's Raining Women".

Post 55: One bar mitzvah and a funeral

Post 55: One Bar Mitzvah and a Funeral

Since THE breakup in November, 2008, I've been meeting unconventional men and women in unconventional places. Life would be just too boring if and I'd have nothing to write about, if I met conventional people in conventional places.....or if I didn't meet anyone at all....but then I would probably write about the people I encounter in movies, on TV and in books. For example, I recently finished "Eat, Pray, Love", by Elizabeth Gilbert and seriously felt that I had said goodbye to a friend when the book was finished!

After the flurry of strange men that I recently met, I retreated to a bar mitzvah, where I knew I would be spending a weekend with religious men and women, most of them married, and therefore I would be safe from close encounters of the Israeli kind.

A close friend, recently separated, sent me a text message to 'behave myself". I assured her that I would be ok. I was in a hotel near the beach, sharing a room with my son, and with a full schedule - candle lighting, shabbat dinner, breakfast, Saturday morning prayers and Torah reading, lunch, etc. etc.

My son and I arrived a few hours before the Sabbath (Shabbat) was to begin. I'm not religious, but many of the guests were, which means they had to stay overnight in order to avoid traveling from their homes to the bar mitzvah on Shabbat. It was a beautfiul day, unusually warm for February, even in Israel, and with the beach literally in the backyard of the hotel, I decided to take a walk before the festivities began.

My son was happy to stay reading the paper and watching cable television (which we do not have at home) so I head out in running shoes, a tunic and pants. No makeup. No bathing suit....just me and my extra 5 kilos.

The beach was located on a semi-isolated section of the Mediterranean Sea, with beautiful cliffs on the east, and the sea on the west. I headed north for a peaceful and leisurely walk. I passed the families with children and the thin women in bikinis. I watched the surfers in their wet suits pack up their equipment and head back to their cars. One of them said hello to me and instead of ignoring him, I smiled back and we started to talk. He chatted me up and invited himself back to the hotel, but I told him that I was sharing it with my son, and that it wouldn't be appropriate. He decided to give me his number anyway. He was thirty something and thought I was the same age. I told him that it was the first time anyone had started up with me on the beach in 20 years, and thanked him for massaging my ego. He wanted to massage something more tangible than my ego, telling me that I looked good and was sexy.

And that's when I realized that perhaps not all good looking men in their thirties are attracted to their twiggy counterparts in bathingsuits. Perhaps bored by the thin human scenery, the surfer was turned on by rounder female mammals (and I don't mean dolphins).

This writer took the surfer's phone number and returned to the hotel. She didn't spend the night with the surfer, but enjoyed the weekend. And then on Saturday night her friends' mother died. She spent Friday on a beach, Saturday in a synagogue and Sunday in a cemetary. One bar mitzvah and a funeral.

Post 51: Why is this breakup different from all other breakups?

During the Passover seder, one of the questions that the youngest child asks is "Why is this Night Different from all other Nights?" Although it's a few months before Passover, and I'm not even a religious Jew, I've been pondering that question regarding being back in the "singles" scene following my recent breakup.

Can I still call it recent? It's been more than two months. When is it right to be dating again ? There are all sorts of theories about this. One theory says that you need one month for every year you've been going out. So since I went out with my (now) ex-boyfriend for 3 years, that would mean three months, which is coming up soon.

However, if I saw him only once a week during the last three years, does that give me less time, or more time? And we had a breakup during those three years of two months, so how do you account for that?

Like all rules, they are good to have as a basis but there is always an exception to the rule....and it's pretty easy to break most rules, unless you are very religious person....and even then you can sometimes there are exceptions to rules, if that religious person consults with his or her rabbi, priest, guru, spiritual leader, etc.

So if we all agree that it's ok that I've gone back to dating, what is DIFFERENT this time around? To be honest, it's a pain; an unpleasant deja vu. I'm not really into blind dates right now, but I do try to combine meeting new men with activities that I like. For example, if I know about an organized hike that a lot of people are going on, then I might invite someone that I have been in touch with on the internet to join. In that way, I am not "stuck" with him and he is not "stuck" with me. We are both free to meet other people during the hike.

The other day, a non-smoking divorced man with a very nice internet profile and nice voice, called me up and told me about a party that he was going to. He had already seen my picture on the internet, but I couldn't really see his, as he only revealed his head and nose....Anyway, I would assume that if a man calls you up and tells you about a party, he is giving you the opportunity to meet him there. If he didn't want to meet you, he wouldn't call you up specially on the night of the party and tell you about it, right?

That sounds logical, but I have been in Israel for over 20 years, and should know by now that there is NOTHING logical about Israel. Without going into a political narrative and scare you away, this lack of logic extends itself to dating and other areas....

So I wasn't going to show up to this party, being a bad dancer to begin with. I am much more comfortable in a party where people are playing music and singing, or on a hike in the nature, than watching middle aged men and women dance in an empty garage, with no opportunity to even hear the person beside you.

Things have improved in Israel whereas there is far less smoking inside the dance clubs (there is no smoking allowed officially, but I don't know what is happening in Tel Aviv; I have trouble believing this is enforced). This is great for avid non-smokers such as myself. The disadvantage is that if you actually want to hear anyone speak, you need to go outside, and that is exactly where all the smokers are.

I did go to the party that my potential new man in my life suggested. On the phone, he sounded so sweet and had a few things going for him: divorced, non-smoking, employed, has kids (read: doesn't want more as he's paying enough child support already); doesn't like dancing, loves nature, cuddling, kissing for hours.....I thought that if he made the effort to call me and tell me about the party, I should make the effort to at least show up, particularly as the party was only a 10 minute drive or so from my home.

So Mr. Potential met me at the entrance to the party, (along with his relatives and a few people that had driven with him). He admitted, once we were inside, that he wasn't much of a dancer anyway. Great, I thought....and then after a drink or so, he disappeared.

I danced a bit but then decided to look for him, as I really did want to get the opportunity to know him a bit better. But he wasn't at the bar, and it seemed a bit long for him to have been in the toilet, so I went outside.

Mr. "no, I don't smoke" was sitting and chatting with another woman (whom he didn't arrive with), both of them SMOKING CIGARETTES!!!

When I confronted him, he said "well, I'm corrupt. I do smoke at events like these". My friends asked if I was upset that he was chatting with another woman (obviously he didn't like the way I looked once he saw me in person......or preferred the smell of the cigarettes to the smell of my freshly washed hair and body). They told me (a recurring voice, after being in this country for so long. "You are still too anglo-saxon and you expect people to behave as nicely and honestly as you do....but they don't) (Ironically, I am divorced from an 'Anglo Saxon" so that doesn't mean that marrying or dating another Anglo Saxon is a key to a good relationship)....

But I wasn't upset (ok, maybe a bit!) that he spoke to another woman, as this wasn't an official "date". What upset me was that he lied about the smoking! Feeling rather foolish, I went home and crossed the man off my mental "potential new boyfriend list". The fact that he didn't reveal his whole face in the picture perhaps should have been a hint to me that he wasn't honest about other things he had told me.

And thank goodness, I didn't even have to go on a "date" with him to find this out, or uncover dishonesty after a three year relationship.

Not being religious, I still have to say that G-d did me a favor. If I hadn't made the effort to meet him that night, I might still have been fantasizing about meeting him in the future....

So what's different about the disappointments now as opposed to three years ago?

The difference is today I realize that I am the lucky one, and it is the loss of the guy who 'rejects' me or "lies to me". He is only giving the green light for the next guy that G-d or fate decides to flaunt in my path (or on my screen). And due to lots of therapy and work on my self esteem, I no longer take this as something personal. Rather, I say "next".

But the other thing that is interesting is that while I haven't yet learned to 'detach myself from the wanting", as I wrote about in my previous post, I do realize that if I keep attracting these problematic men into my life, it means that it's not my time yet. I haven't healed yet....or the next boyfriend simply hasn't broken up from his present girlfriend yet.

There are plenty of men out there who find me attractive, intelligent, sexy, and everything else that I believe I am....sometimes I simply do not feel the same about them...and other times it is reciprocal, but it doesn't work out for more technical reasons like geographical distance.

What's different this time around, is that I don't feel guilty for trying, because I know that my time will come soon, but the fact that I can still get excited, romantic, fantasize, or just get giggly as a teenager means that I still have the capacity to love, more cynically and apprehensively, yes, but it's there. The girl-woman is still here, not the figure of the girl, but the passion of the woman combined with the romanticism of the girl.

The nights are still cold. The apartments here still are not heated that well. And going to sleep reading a good book and hugging the blankets is STILL not the same as a boyfriend....no matter how much I have tried to convince you otherwise!

So the war is over (for now). The flowers are blooming (just started). The men coming my way are still rather messed up (for now)...which means that I must also be a bit messed up (for now).

That being said, this writer should be cynical and bitter, but she knows how to hike in the rain, and laugh in the middle of a war. It might not be her stop just yet on the road to emotional ride to recovery from the breakup, but she can enjoy the scenery on the ride, while it lasts.

Post 49: The Finish Line: the end to love and peace

This post has been written as a submission to Scribbit's January (2009) "Write-Away contest".

My three year love came to an end just as the most recent Hamas vs. Israel war began.

The words "The Finish Line" bring to mind a race or a marathon, something that requires a lot of training and energy but then ends, one way or another. The participants in a race clearly know where the finish line is marked, but they don't know who is going to be first in line or what time it will take to get the winner there.

But the Finish Line in love and war is less clear. I supposed I knew that my last relationship would end, but I didn't know when, and I didn't know how. The Finish Line in my case was a plane ticket. My boyfriend of 3 years decided to take a break from Israel and travel abroad. I knew that the date he was set to play would mark a separation in our relationship. What I didn't know was that it would be finished completely when I discovered, the day that he flew, that he had started a different relationship with someone else. Well, that was the Finish Line for that relationship. I confronted the woman, who did not know about me, and she actually thanked me for disclosing his disloyalty, that she didn't know about it. Now Mr. formerly wonderful has no one to return to - neither of us want a dishonest person in our lives....

So I moved on, past the Finish Line of this relationship.

And then the "ceasefire" between Hamas and Israel ended. Sad thing was it wasn't a ceasefire to begin with due to all the missiles falling on southern Israel for the past few years, but when it officially ended, its "Finish Line" became in fact the beginning of a war. More missiles, longer range, more extensive damage. Israel's Defense Army (IDF), being just that, a defense army felt that they could not sit still and leave its citizens undefended any longer against the missiles and therefore fought back with air and ground forces.

I really hope that the deadline for this contest is also the Finish Line for the suffering on both ends and that the Start Line will begin: beginnings for peace; beginnings for love and new, honest relationships....

But who am I kidding. I'm a single (divorced) mom living in Israel. New love for me? Maybe. End to the Hamas-Israel conflict? I doubt it. My 14 year old teenager Finishing His Homework.? Impossible.

This writer thinks that world peace is a more realistic Finish Line than a new boyfriend or a gifted teenager learning to finish his homework.

Post 41: Fishing for Space

originally created as Column Forty-one, April 2007

As I walked past the outdoor stands in the neighborhood shopping mall, just before Passover, I was attracted to the bright colors of several vodka bottles. Inside each bottle was a mini-aquarium containing water (not vodka) and a single fish. The salesperson was selling each bottle+fish+fishfood as a gift.

A few people walked by to inquire what she was selling. Most of them exclaimed "poor thing - he's all alone". The vendor explained that if the fish had a partner they would probably kill each other and that he can live for about four years in such a bottle. Furthermore, if you would put that fish in a huge aquarium, he would look for a quiet and intimate corner.

I didn't see anyone buying the fish, but many continued to protest at the fish's apparent bachelorhood. I found it amusing that despite the fact that the vendor explained that the fish was content being alone, people insisted that he was lonely. Even fish aren't allowed to be alone in Israel? Even being a single fish is socially unacceptable? I imagine that if people weren't so busy, they would quickly come up to the vendor with suggestions of eligible other fish to fix him up with, and if he would reject their candidacy, they would probably console their own fish and say "don't worry, there are plenty more in the sea".

But seriously, this is the continuous obsession with having to have a partner or live with someone to be part of society. In a recent popular tv show, a single woman and her fiance call off the marriage. The camera shows the ex-bride crying hysterically in her living room. Her friend tries to console her. She says she is crying because she wanted her identity card to read "divorced". A comedy, yes, but sadly true.

It seems to be more acceptable to be divorced than to be single. Even the series "Sex and the City", that tried to glorify, or at least justify single women being single, ended the series with EACH one of the four single girls being married or at least having a serious, committed boyfriend. As the series did not continue, we do not know what happened to the characters and whether their relationships did succeed in the long-term, or not. However, the writers seemed to have given in, despite the non-conventional and daring manner in which the series was portrayed to the socially conservative notion of women living "happily ever after" with the men of their dreams.

And so here it was...a beautiful fish in a beautiful home happily sporting its colors and decorative environment to the passersby. But that was not enough. This single fish was not accepted by it society, not even on the eve of Passover!

This writer does NOT live with a boyfriend or husband in Israel,, but she is not lonely!

Post 39: The Princess and the Pea (The Pita and the Chick Pea)

Originally created as Column Thirty-nine, January, 2005

In post 33, the Cinderella Syndrome, I wrote about Cinderella and the slipper, when my shoe broke at a company event I attended with my then boyfriend. Today I tell the tale of the Princess and the Pea, the legend of a prince’s search to discover and then marry a true sensitive princess who would feel a pea under 20 mattresses and 20 blankets. Personally I think being married to such a woman would be difficult as the trait in this case is hypersensitivity rather than sensitivity, but let’s look at the similarities between the Princess and the Pea and me.

I sleep with 4 blankets in the winter as I have no one else to keep me warm (and the apartments in the coastal area of Israel are not heated.
I went to a party where I was hungry and there wasn’t much food, so I helped myself to some humous, which is made out of chick peas.

The housewarming party was in an old hut on a “moshav” – a village in Israel in the Jerusalem hills and the houseguests, many whom didn’t even know the host but heard there was a party numbered over a hundred. After eating the humous in a piece of pita bread (the pita and the chick pea = the princess and the pea), I turned around to the voice of a European prince who asked me if it was tasty.

“Not bad, I replied but when you’re hungry, you can’t complain”. The European’s eyes met mine and we smiled at each other. Hopefully, no traces of humous remained around my lips. “Where are you from” I asked. (Very royal conversation). “Tel Aviv” the European replied. “Oh, you’re not from Spain or Argentina?” I asked. “You have some sort of Latin accent”.

“Italian, I studied industrial design in Milan for 4 years. By the way, the colors you are wearing become you. “

(“And I’m a writer”, I thought, but I haven’t written in ages. So I’ll have to go home and write.)

“Thanks, I don’t like wearing black. It depresses me, and I guess green matches my eyes”.

“Yes, and I may not know a lot but I do know a lot about color”.

And eventually the prince (who wasn’t European after all) and princess walked outside of the crowded house to get some privacy. He held my hands. But he’s looking for a bachelorette, an unmarried female, and I’m divorced with a child….and what do I need to be involved with another bachelor for, especially one who isn’t interested in me as I am not a true princess, despite finding the chick pea under a pile of 20 pitas.

But for a few moments I was a princess and he was a princess.

This writer was so happy that she took the toll highway home from Jerusalem instead of the regular highway and her euphoria cost her fifty shekels. A fee fit only for a rich princess.

Post 38: I Feel the Earth Move

originally created as Column Thirty-eight, February, 2004

Febuary, 2004, “Winter” in Israel. The economic situation in Israel is deteriorating. Technology is advancing but social benefits are being cut by the government and the middle class is slowly but surely disappearing. Unemployment is high and those working are hanging on to their jobs for dear life.

So what has this to do with dating and No Sex in the City? Sex doesn’t cost money between singles if there are two mutual and willing parties, but the steps you need to take to have sex do cost money. Whether you are a mother with a young child at home who needs a babysitter in order to go on a date or a man who usually pays for coffee during a first date, at least, the hidden agenda, whether it takes one date, three months, or an engagement, is sex.

Of course, there are other ambitions among single people looking for a life partner or even a temporary partner – mutual interests, values, perhaps wanting to have children, and for those of us divorced with children, the compatibility of our children with theirs, in the remote future.

But this winter, the singles are hibernating behind their computer screens. Snuggling under their thick blankets alone or perhaps finding comfort (not sexual) with the companionship of their children and/or pets or the eternal wait for their laundry to dry before it rains, yet again. We embrace the 15 degree temperatures during the day whereas our friends and family in Canada think it’s a summer day when the thermometer rises from -45 to -15.

So despite the tough situation here economically, we smile and enjoy the days of sunshine between the wet days and cool nights and heave a sigh of relief, “thank goodness I don’t live in Canada in the winter!” Yes, I think I am immune to the influence of natural causes here, because the weather simply is the best part of living here. Who cares about terrorists and car accidents when I can feel solace in the sunshine as I sit without a coat as I eat lunch at an outdoor café. So this morning I vowed to concentrate only on work, and not think about the emotional and financial difficulties my son and I are having. Immersed in proofreading the English text of a technical diagram, I quickly forget the world except regarding font size, punctuation and grammar.

Before I know it I feel the whole room shake and I move quickly to stand between the door frames of the office. A few minutes later, the internet confirmed my intuitive prognosis. EARTHQUAKE in central Israel. Measured 4.5 on the Richter scale. Wonder if there is going to be an aftershock.

Some people feel the earth move when they are having sex. This writer thinks that her chances for having a boyfriend before spring are less than the chances of being in another earthquake. She also hopes it will take less than another earthquake before she gets child support owing to her son for more than a year.

Post 29: The Bare Bears

originally created as Column Twenty-Nine, October, 2001

In Post 19 “Compatibility of Divorcees”, I wrote "Even though they will have very little in common, this writer might prefer dating technologically-challenged bachelors who still remember how to use a public telephone."

I must be good at prophesizing. My sister reads tarot cards, so perhaps it runs in the family. I actually met a bachelor, Tal, who doesn’t own a cellphone. He doesn’t believe in cellphones and think that they ruin the quality of life. So now that his mother is ill, and he is at her hospital bedside, I cannot call him. I can leave messages on his answering machine at home and now that eventually he will check his messages but I can’t call him up at any hour of the day or night.

Dafna was horrified when she heard about this. “What happens if you are living together and you need to call him up in the supermarket and tell him that you are out of milk and to ask him to bring some home?” Since I don’t drink that much milk at home, it is unlikely that I would run out, so I wasn’t as devastated at Dafna of losing out on a dial in supermarket delivery service. (Dafna is a big fan of this blog so I hope she doesn’t take offense. I love her dearly!) Also, given the fact that in the last year I have not made it past four dates, the thought of living with or marrying someone seems like something out of a science fiction film.

Not only does Tal not have a cellphone, but his computer is not hooked up to the internet, so I can’t send him e-mails. He told me he doesn’t want a serious relationship with me because I am older than him and divorced and he is looking for someone younger, but we seem to be very fond of each other, and yet I am still trying to date divorced men with children, as ultimately that is who I am “supposed” to end up with. However, with the events of September 11 have changed my outlook on life, and made me think again and again how unpredictable and short life can be. So I really don’t want to give up the opportunity to enjoy my time with Tal and date other guys at the same time. In fact, Tal is only encouraging me to do so.

And so now I think that I am still a mammal but perhaps no longer human. We are simply bare bears enjoying being naked and hugging each other and then we will probably hibernate from life, perhaps even through the winter. One tall male thin bear and one short plump bear together for warmth until we return to the hunting and gathering of food. And what is food in this extended metaphor? Marriage material? The mythical ideally compatible partner? Being a positive thinker, I know that I will continue to reach my destinations without car accidents, being shot at, or being blown up and yet the reality of it happening to others is hard to avoid. I assure my son that our apartment block is too low for planes to fly into, but he doesn’t seem to know how many bombs and shooting incidents have occurred in the past year only a few kilometers or blocks away from our “safe” home. That’s why it’s simpler just to be a bear, I suppose.

This writer does not advocate sex with bears. She only assumes it’s less complicated than the mating game in the twenty-first century.