Post 71: Love by Any Other Name

Post 71: Love by Any Other Name


English may be a richer language than Hebrew, but both have the same problem. They have a word called "love" (Ahava in Hebrew (noun); Le'ehov (verb) to describe several kinds of situations.

There is something wrong with this!!! How can you have the same word to describe your feeling towards eating ice cream to your love of your parents???

• I love ice cream.



• I love my son.



• I love my mother.



• I love hiking.



• I love to sing.



• I love my baby.



• I love my cat.



• I love my friends.



• It's even a score in tennis meaning ZERO.
  

It's just not the same thing!!! In English you can like, admire, adore, lust....but why is there only one word for love? Some people say that the Inuit have 100 different words for snow (although check the Internet - this is debatable). And why is the problem of one word for love evident in so many languages? But there's got to be a different between sexual, physical love and platonic love at least!!! How did this word develop? Why are there so many words in Hebrew, for example, for bodily secretions, for flowers and trees. There's even more than one word for a basket that you use for the Shavuot holiday? And that's only one or two days in the entire year?



And some say that come of the Eskimo lanaguges spoken by Inuit people have hundred of words for "snow", although this may very well be an urban legend.

The word LOVE has definitely been neglected. It's sung about, written about, defined, sold, bought, traded, used for advertisements, hidden, exposed, counted, sorted, measured, weighed, lost, won, forgotten, regained, relinquished, abandoned, etc. etc.

You may the song "As the Years Go By" by Mashmakhan. They also sing about the meaning of love at different ages. You can watch it here (external link) or embedded here.. I like this version as they show scenes from Canada, but you can watch different versions on YouTube. This is the first time I've embedded a video. There may be hopes for me yet until the techology changes again.

I don't know what love is, but maybe I'll finally understand once someone gives the word another name.

This post has been inspired by Jacob, a friend of this writer, who would "love" to give him a well-deserved credit.

Post 42: Eerie Era

I just finished seven years of writing. That's right (write?) Originally I wrote almost 41 posts before the era of blogs and when I decided to open a blog, I had material ready to post every few days. It took approximately six months to post these stories, and it was fun, albeit painful at times, to review each post in retrospect.

Now I will be creating new material. I don't know whether to pick up where I left off, or tell the story of what is happening to me now and then go back in time.

For the present, let me just thank my friends and family who have been following this blog and encourage them to share it with others. Just because I don't write under my real name, doesn't mean I don't want to be read.

Given the emotional state that I'm in right now, I can't guarantee the new material to be as witty or as fresh as past posts, but I can hope to offer my brand of cynicism with a little bit of cautious optimism thrown in for fun.....

This writer is shifting gears in this eerie era.

Post 34: No Sex in the Desert

originally created as Column 34, February, 2003

"No Sex in the Desert" OR "My Boyfriend Cheated on Me with a Rifle"

I don’t usually give two titles to these posts, but this was an exception, especially when this writer actually had a boyfriend for the first time in 3 years. For 6 weeks. And about 12 dates!

There I was. In a huge Bedouin tent in the middle of a desert in a sleeping bag. On a mattress. ALONE! And a few mattresses away lay Ariel. My boyfriend. Or he was my boyfriend. Only he was ignoring me and sleeping with his rifle instead.

I didn’t really expect to have sex in the desert in front of 15 other adult campers. I just wanted to be warm. And it’s not like some beautiful thin young woman had stolen my boyfriend. I was competing with a rifle….

So he ignored me. On Friday and for most of Saturday.

I was in one of the most romantic spots in the world – Ein Gedi – an oasis in a desert. But my love life dried up like a drained waterfall. Even Ariel remarked how wonderful the nature reserve was and how long it had been since he had hiked to such a beautiful area but he wouldn’t hold my hand or put his arm around me. He did let me lend him some toothpaste and share his backpack and he did hold my hand when he thought I would fall. But no one knew we were a couple. Or had been a couple. For the last 6 weeks. So I told him I wouldn’t call him again. That he could take the time to do the thinking he needed to do. About us. And that was 8 days ago. I haven’t heard from him since.

Sure enough I got another cold sore, a really ugly one in the middle of my lip, so I am not in a rush to date the leftover men that I had started to make contact with before I was set up with this cute but introverted and non-communicative bachelor.

I wanted 5 dates. I got about 11. It was nice having a boyfriend for 6 weeks or so. Even nicer than having an imaginary one.

But it’s back to the drawing board. Now what am I going to do?

My friends say it’s simple: STOP COUNTING DATES!!!!

But how can I stop? Behavioral therapy? My friends practically sent a press release out when I made it past the 5th date. One friend thought the Messiah was on its way. The other one was sure that Bush was about to attack Iraq. Well, the last time I spent the Gulf War with a boyfriend I ended up getting engaged. And I don’t think I’d want to go through that again….

Of course this writer is sad, but what does she expect after being Cinderella and having her shoe rescued by Prince Charming. Instead of the clock striking 12 and Cinderella’s chariot turning into a pumpkin.

Post 32: Sooner or Later

originally created as Column 32, September, 2002

Evan met Ben in the park and told me about him. Divorced, non-smoker, attractive, “anglo-saxon” and good-looking. But he doesn’t like setting people up so he wouldn’t give him my phone number nor him mine. “Look for him on the internet”, he said and told me what site to find him on. I didn’t bother and then a few months later, Ben contacted me on the internet. I sent him pictures, per his request and got not even a thank you. Considering the bachelors and married men who won’t leave me alone, I imagine that I am not that ugly, but for whatever reason (maybe Ben met someone else or got back with an old girlfriend) I never heard from him. Neither did Evan.

Another six months passed until last night. Evan, my son and I went to a music concert where a familiar looking guy started talking to Evan. I realized that it was Ben and winked at Evan. Evan introduced me and asked if we knew each other. We both said “no”. Ben was polite but didn’t seem particularly interested in me. My son tried to gain attention throughout the performance.. Ben disappeared ever so quickly when the performance was over. Sooner or later it was going to happen. Perhaps he was embarrassed at the confrontation. I didn’t get any dates out of confronting the internet man who thought he could escape her screen. My son got to play a rare instrument and be applauded by an audience of 20. A full moon shone with the stars onto the rooftop, and I forgot the threat of terrorists, at least for an hour.

No sex and no future dates, but this writer spent the evening with the two most attractive men in the room on either side of her, even though one was eight-years-old.

Post 31: Viruses spread in more than one way

originally created as Column Thirty-one, July, 2002


A virus attacked my computer during the second year of writing these anecdotes. This left my creativity and my emotions vulnerable to change. A friend (who thankfully likes only very thin women, is faithful to his wife and therefore, thank goodness did NOT start up with me) helped reformat my computer, although I had already hung a “rest in peace” sign on its screen a few months ago. Don, my ex-boyfriend (very ex at this point, as he and Marilyn have been living together for over a year) called me very disappointed that I had not written my columns (which were to be the material for this blog) for a long time.

“I don’t have the muse. I am too tired”.

“Aw c’mon. I’m sure you can think of something” he implored with his usual, over-confident tone of voice.

Blank. I had to think. Certainly I had toyed with enough material in my head over the last eight months or so. And then it hit me.

Not only did the virus strike my computer and stopped me physically from writing, but it also stopped the “No Sex”. Yes, I know it is a double negative, but it is really simple. Liat and Dafna did not want to star in my column and therefore started to have sex. No, not with each other.
I simply infected them with the idea of “No Sex” and they were so fed up with the idea that they decided to break their track record. Dafna has been seeing a commitment-shy bachelor for about two months and has even admitted that her hormones are working again. I told her that she has won the Oscar in terms of the number of dates that she has had in the last few years, but she says that the Academy Awards has several categories and although I might not win best picture, I still win multiple awards in other categories. Liat has the most varied location shots, as she has not had sex in the exotic countries she has traveled to and best original soundtrack for all the music performances she has gone to, but not had sex during.

Liat’s most successful pickup spot is a swimming pool, which means that her dates see her without clothes before they see her with clothes. I suppose that might kill the element of surprise. Men also flirt with her at traffic lights, in which case they see her face before her body. In any case, she is slowly but surely on her way to having a boyfriend. I can feel it in the air. No justified explanation – just my influence on her.

I have made a few enemies and some admirers since I started to write this but I will take it as flattery before I get tomatoes and eggs thrown at me. Well, that’s one way of doing on-line grocery shopping.

You might also be wondering what happened to Tal. Yes, hopefully last bachelor I will get emotionally attached to in my life. Our relationship finally reached the supermarket level – that is not only did he get a cellphone but I actually called him to bring me something from the grocery store on his way to visit me. Then two months ago he realized that he was getting emotionally attached to me and that if he wanted to meet someone serious, we would have to stop seeing each other. Hey, that wasn’t fair. I had continued to date and it was supposed to be me to “break up” with him.

But how can you break up with someone you aren’t even officially seeing? That was tricky, and I myself didn’t know how to do it, so Tal won the competition and did it first.

I root for Liat and Dafna to run on separate tracks to the finish line, and hope that their return to this column will only arrive if their boyfriends/lovers/future husbands are in army reserve duty or out of the country on business.

Since then I actually made it to four dates with a divorcee (bachelors are strictly off limit to me
after Evan and Tal) who turned out to be too critical for my taste and so I’m back to first dates, the starting line, the drawing board, and back here, to this column, this screen and back to sleeping alone.

It’s summer now, so this writer doesn’t need a human electric blanket.

Post 30: No Singing in the City

originally created as Column 30, October, 2001


Since I left my choir, I started hearing songs on the radio that reminded me of the choir – and seeing people who look like people who sing with me in the choir – I was with this choir for 3 years and it’s like breaking up with a boyfriend. That’s why it’s like “no sex in the city” in that it was unlikely I’d meet anyone in the choir unmarried and my age (or even in my decade) that I would want to have sex with (and very few even of the opposite sex to begin with!) I actually had a blind date with a guy who sang in TWO choirs but he wasn’t interested in me (maybe he wanted a tall blonde alto and not a short, brunette, mezzo) .

Ok and lately there’s been this tragedy business. I don’t believe in curses per say – but first I meet a bachelor Tal and his formerly healthy mother gets sick and dies – then I meet a really nice divorced guy with a 3 year old daughter who didn’t even make it to a second date with me cause his daughter got attacked by a dog in a normally calm suburb. Oh no, my friend Evan has a dog in the same suburb but I think he would’ve mentioned such a thing, so I assume it was not the same dog (and I can’t imagine his dog viciously attacking a 3 year old girl) – and then I met another guy who lost his wallet on his way to meet me....

And yes, I know it has nothing to do with me.....

So lately, as you know I had decided not to look for something serious but to be satisfied with “fuck buddies” and not try to stick to celibacy in my pursuit of a more serious relationship. This is something I did not think I was capable of doing, but over the last few years I have somehow been able to suppress my emotions and say that sex without marriage (or commitment) is o.k. if both partners don’t have boyfriends/spouses, practice safe sex etc.....

So what happens..my fuck buddies lately have decided, after years of “hitting the sack” quickly and finding out what a woman has between her legs, often much before finding out what she has between her ears, have decided to become celibate!!!! Will the men now be waiting for 20 dates while I give up and succumb to my passion and my love of hugging (and wanting to stay warm on cold winter nights)?

Is this writer spiritually regressing or physically progressing?

Post 25: The Towel

originally created as Column Twenty-Five, April, 2001


I have seen more men in towels than I have seen men naked. The first time I dropped in on a then platonic friend of mine several years ago (Don later became a lover, but it took months), he answered the door dressed only in a towel. Don wasn’t expecting me and I was rather taken aback at catching him straight out of the shower. I came to pick something up that he had brought for my son from one of his trips out of the country. We only started to sleep together months after that initial home visit. Perhaps the towel had frightened me, but having him greet me stark naked would have frightened me even more.

Today I confessed to my latest platonic friend, Evan, that I am attracted to him, and he confirmed (verbally at least) my suspicions that he is not interested in me physically. (I didn’t press him for the reason) He made sure not to let me into his bedroom when he got undressed to shower (yes, you might ask – why was I in his apartment while he was showering?) Rest assured that he did not invite me to join him in the shower. Next thing I know, he is parading in a towel in the kitchen, and ironing his shirt, while I stand, fully-clothed, watching this spectacle as if I am sitting in an audience.

I see myself on stage, playing the part of the rejected party while the object of my affection and physical attraction shows off his freshly showered and scrubbed torso. You would think he would be a bit embarrassed now knowing that I am attracted to his smell and yet he flashes his flesh unintentionally teasing me – tempting me to touch the body I dare not, because I know with certainty now, that my advances will be rejected.

My phone rings at night, and I know it is not Mr. Tempting Towel with second thoughts, but one of my “fuck buddies” trying to seduce me and console my soul with his body. I refuse, deciding to lose sleep by writing as opposed to wriggling.

Why are men so willing to expose their chests but when I dare mention their ex-girlfriends or wives, even accidentally, I get snapped at and no closer to peeling a layer off their fragile exterior?

This writer will probably throw in the towel long before Evan will.

Kisses are a Girl's Best Friend

Kisses are a Girl's Best Friend

The following is my submission for Scribbit's write-away contest for August, 2008.

We had been dating for a few months. He spent most of his nights at my apartment, as it was more convenient and closer to Tel Aviv, where we both worked. We had already declared that we loved each other, and I had already accepted his marriage proposal. But in Israel, you usually go from dating to marriage, and the engagement stage is shorter and less celebrated.

Although I am Canadian and my fiance was Australian, I didn't expect him to be any different from our Israeli-born friends. The fact that we had set a date and already announced our engagement to our parents seemed serious enough to me. I was elated that after four years since my immigration to Israel, a few failed relationships and some spurts of just plain loneliness, I had found someone with similar values and from a similar culture with whom to share my life and my future.

Or so I thought.

One night, a few weeks after we made our intent to marry public, my fiance told me he had something special to give me. He handed me a decorated box full of Hershey's Kisses. I was delighted, being a chocolate lover. It had been several hours since we had eaten dinner, so I happily unwrapped a few Kisses and enjoyed the taste and texture of non-Israeli chocolate.

"So, what do you think?” he asked.

"Thanks a lot. It was really nice of your sister to bring back these chocolates all the way from Australia.”

"Did you look through the entire box?”

"No, don't worry. I left some kisses for you”, I reassured him.

"Look again.”

Confused, I returned to the bedroom. Following his prompt, I emptied all the Kisses on to my bed, and saw that one of them shined. It wasn't a kiss at all, but his late grandmother's diamond ring, sent all the way from Australia. And now it was my engagement ring.

The next day at work everyone marvelled at the jewel on my finger.

But this writer had agreed to marry him already, even before the first kiss.

Post 23: Transitions

orginally created as Column Twenty-Three, February, 2001


Post 23: Transitions
Since I am seeking new employment, finding a boyfriend concerns me much less and I have gone back to the old habit of sleeping with a good friend on a transitional/temporary basis. Luckily the timing has been convenient as we seem to be between boyfriends/girlfriends at the same time! (Don’t worry - safe sex is being practiced at all times).

I was in a transitional period after my last job and it seemed to attract men to me. Again, I project that I am not looking for a boyfriend, even without my t-shirt “I don’t want a boyfriend”. The problem is that I am too aware of this transitional stage and am having trouble taking this in stride.

I know that when I find a job, the attention will phase out and it’s a lot more important to me to find the right match with a job than the right match with a man. Like Samantha in the series “Sex in the City”, I feel a bit like I am “recycling” men from earlier in my life, but it feels a lot safer and comfortable than treading unexplored territory.

I have enough “blind dates” lined up in the way of job interviews, so I have no energy to go on blind dates with potential boyfriends. I would never dream of dating married men and now I find myself spending a lot of time behind closed doors with married men (and women). I sit relaxed as they are pondering not when they can go to bed with me, but how much I am going to cost their budget, and will it be worth it to them?

There is not too much difference in the basics – dress professionally, not provocatively, make sure hair, nails and shoes are clean, be aware of body language on both sides. Don’t say bad things about your ex boss and don’t say bad things about your ex spouse. Maintain a sense of humor but don’t give out too much information – not on the first date and not on the first interview. If you are laid off a job in Israel after working for at least six months, you are eligible, in most cases for unemployment insurance. If you get dumped by a boyfriend after six months, you should be eligible for “uncouple” insurance. But then that would mean, you should pay him compensation if you break up with him after six months – (“take some money and just get out of my life”).

This writer is in a professional and personal transition period.

Post 7: There is sushi. There is sunshine.

originally created as column 7, October, 2000

There is sushi. There is sunshine.

Lately I’m simply a bit tired of thinking about men. So I met Dafna and Liat for sushi one Friday afternoon. It was a beautiful sunny day. No one asked if us if we were thin or fat, what we looked like and why we got divorced. We sat for a leisurely lunch and I didn’t have to worry if Dafna would call me again or whether Liat would try to kiss me. And I can call either one of them without them thinking that I am being pushy. We don’t have to define our relationship because we are all friends, and I won’t get jealous when they date other men or meet with other women. They will compliment me on my clothes and hair and forgive each other for losing or gaining weight, because there are more important things in life after all.

After lunch, I went home and bought myself flowers and put on some quiet romantic music, and then I took a nap. At least when there is no sex, you can sleep peacefully. So on some days, men, we just don’t need you. When there’s no sex, there is sushi, and there is sunshine.

This writer eats tuna salad, chicken and other, less exotic food. Sushi is a treat.

Post 5: It's in his kiss

originally created as column five, September, 2000


I have heard that some prostitutes do not kiss on the mouth, because this implies an emotional attachment. They will have intercourse, give blow jobs, hand jobs, play psychologist and undergo all sorts of female-male acts, but they do not kiss on the mouth.

So you can imagine my devastation when a very cuddly man, divorced with twins, intelligent, charming and not bad looking would not kiss me on the mouth, and still doesn’t kiss any woman he sleeps with. He is still traumatized by his divorce and it will take some type of therapy, or he will simply snap out of it. He gave his soul to his ex-wife and just doesn’t feel that he can give anymore of himself. So he will hug, cuddle, fondle, give massages, but he will not kiss. You would think that I would be tired of that right away, but I stayed with him because it was a really cold winter and I wanted the male warmth and understanding. No one bought me an electric blanket and my quilts kept falling off the bed, but there’s nothing like a hug. So I was hugful and kissless. When I finally got the kiss I waited for from someone else I felt like some teenager. It was on a second date, months later, and it was in his car. He held my face when he kissed me and I didn’t see fireworks, but I felt like a virgin and teenager again (yes these days virginal doesn’t necessarily go with teenager) but I felt like one.... and now I am simply addicted to kissing. I don’t miss hugs so much or orgasms (I can do that by myself anyway) but a good kiss...not a sloppy one or particularly wet one, but a gentle well meaning warm and romantic kiss, and when I hear Cher’s song “It’s in His Kiss, That’s where it is”, I understand.


This writer holds no resemblance to Cher or she would not have time or need to write this column.

Post 4: How many dates should you wait?

originally created as column 4, September, 2000

Despite our supposedly modern society, and even those enough intelligent enough to use condoms and get periodic HIV tests, many of us still agree that one does not go to bed on the first date. So the question is, on what date is it ok to go to bed? There seems to be some consensus that the fourth date is passable but that the fifth or sixth is more respectable, and others say waiting for 20 dates is a real test of spiritual awareness and restraint.

So is it ok to kiss? To walk hand in hand, to put one’s arm around his/her partner in the movies. And by sex are they talking about intercourse or any type of physical contact? And what’s a date anyway. If phone conversations don’t count as dates, what happens if you have phone sex? And how often do you have dates. If a new potential partner sees you every day or twice a week, or only once a week, it will take anywhere from 20 days to 20 weeks to sleep with him? Sure, you will get to know each other better, but in the meantime he is probably sleeping with someone else, or you are masturbating like crazy and starting to worry whether reality will match your fantasy. Yes, there are some relationships that actually develop after going to bed on the first or second date, but they are far and few in this Israeli dating world, unless it is a relationship that is mainly sexually oriented, and then why do we care if they like pets, children, are bachelors or divorced. I recently fell for an intelligent non-smoking divorced man who has one child and he only wanted a sexual relationship. I thought, what a waste. If I want only a sexual relationship, that’s what bachelors are for? What a waste of a divorced man with a child.

I am looking for a partner and potential father figure for my son, as well as a friend and a lover. For lover, I would prefer an old friend, a “yeziz”. (Combination of the Hebrew word ‘yedid’ (friend) and ziyun (fuck). (In the tv program they call them “Fuck Buddies”). Good friends that sleep together are much safer than new ones. For the yezizim, I know where things stand. I know we can’t ever really be a couple and then I don’t have to worry about emotional attachment and can have “sex netto”, as I’ve heard this type of relationship being referred to.

This writer has yet to wait 20 dates. She hasn’t even had a third date in months.

Post 3: Working on our relationship

originally created as column 3, September, 2000

Child educators say to call a spade a spade. That means a penis a penis, a vagina a vagina, etc. etc. Yet some people still have a problem or are embarrassed to call body parts by their rightful name or even having sex by its name. Having sex, making love, screwing, fucking, fornication, sleeping together, “knowing in the Biblical sense” “were intimate” “were romantic”.

The intimacy one I love. I mean you can have sex without being intimate at all, without knowing your partner’s last name, or how many sugars he takes in his coffee. Does he drink coffee? Does he offer you coffee? Ok – but we’ll leave that for “how many dates to wait” chapter. My friend, married about a year, found a solution to talk about sex without giving it away completely. When she has sex with her husband, she refers to it to “working on her relationship”. So if I’ve called late at night and her answering machine is on, yet I had spoken to her only a half-hour earlier and I didn’t think she was going out anywhere, chances are she is working on her relationship. Or when I ask couples how their weekends are or what they did on Saturday and they say “nothing”, then I know that they are also “working on their relationship”.

This writer wouldn’t mind an entire weekend to work on her relationship, if she had one to work on.

Post 1: What's sex got to do with it?

originally created as column 1, September, 2000

So why do women want sex anyway?

There are vibrators – there is literature, internet sites, phone lines. You don’t even need men to make babies, as there are sperm banks. So why date? With lesbianism seeming to be in fashion, I feel almost apologetic when I admit that I still like men. I mean I know that they are from Mars and we are from Venus, but I happen to like men still.... their deep voices, their charm (sometimes) and their Peter Pan complex. They need their space. God forbid you pressure them. So why date them? For sex? I think it’s for a hug. A male hug. It’s something you just can’t get from a girlfriend, a child, a mentor. You need a man. I mean I need one anyway. Someone to hug, to turn me on, to put his arm around me in a movie or to walk hand in hand down the street or look at a sunset. Old, romantic, maybe out of fashion, but I want a boyfriend. Yes, one shouldn’t need. So I don’t need. I want.

I thought of a new strategy. Men can sense a woman “looking” (for a boyfriend) a mile (kilometer?) away and will avoid her like the plague. So how about if I print a t-shirt saying “I don’t want a boyfriend.” I have girl- next-door looks and men just don’t start up with me on the street, so perhaps if I had a t-shirt trying to keep them away, it might work. Enough of internet dating, parties, friends, hikes.... just a plain t-shirt trying to keep them away..... I mean why are men so fascinated with lesbians anyway. They see them as a challenge and think that if they were to meet the real thing, they will forget about their sexual orientation and see the real light.

I really shouldn’t speak for lesbians but speaking for three straight females; (not their real names)

• Liat – single, tall and thin
• Dafna – divorced without kids, medium height, medium weight, shoulder length hair
• Gilit Frank – divorced plus one, short, a little chubby

All three of us attractive and basically normal. By normal I mean that we don’t have horns, we enjoy sex, we want a long-term relationship – some of us want marriage and kids. We all dress fairly well and are positive educated women, not overpowering and fun loving...

And despite the fact that we have experience in dating and relationships, the men are still from Mars and haven’t managed to connect with the women from Venus. And I don’t think they’ve read John Gray’s books anyway, or perhaps they are too busy reading John Gray’s books and have decided they don’t really want a girlfriend after all.

So I think I’ll print out that t-shirt. Perhaps it will work. Anyone want to volunteer to wear one?