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.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Post 48: Let the Sun Shine Despite the Missiles in the South
time: the present, January, 2009
I wanted to cover the last 3 years, but have been overwhelmed by the present. I go to work. My son goes to school. I meet new people and savor the sunshine in a forest after a week of very much needed rain.
But in the south of Israel, missiles fall - not just in the south, but in the center. I can't write political commentary any better than professional political commentators, so I'm not going to comment, just observe that
Life goes on in the center of Israel. It's sad. We all want the violence to end on both sides. But after six eight years of rockets in the south while the world stayed silent......I really don't know what to say.
So let me tell you that the winter nights are cold, (for Israel). I feel for my friend whose son is a soldier. My son will also be one in a few years, but right now I am more worried that he didn't study for his biology test tomorrow.
I was on a hike today with such warm people. I wished that the international media could zoom on in these people, hiking, respecting nature, relishing the winter pools which are so rarely full of water, and forgetting about the terror, the bloodshed and the tears.
I hope that I will not have to write more about terrorists, missiles and sorrow.
This writer would rather write about NO SEX and hope that soon she will be writing about NO MISSILEs.
I wanted to cover the last 3 years, but have been overwhelmed by the present. I go to work. My son goes to school. I meet new people and savor the sunshine in a forest after a week of very much needed rain.
But in the south of Israel, missiles fall - not just in the south, but in the center. I can't write political commentary any better than professional political commentators, so I'm not going to comment, just observe that
Life goes on in the center of Israel. It's sad. We all want the violence to end on both sides. But after six eight years of rockets in the south while the world stayed silent......I really don't know what to say.
So let me tell you that the winter nights are cold, (for Israel). I feel for my friend whose son is a soldier. My son will also be one in a few years, but right now I am more worried that he didn't study for his biology test tomorrow.
I was on a hike today with such warm people. I wished that the international media could zoom on in these people, hiking, respecting nature, relishing the winter pools which are so rarely full of water, and forgetting about the terror, the bloodshed and the tears.
I hope that I will not have to write more about terrorists, missiles and sorrow.
This writer would rather write about NO SEX and hope that soon she will be writing about NO MISSILEs.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Post 47: Sweat Lodge goes Urban
flashback to October, 2005
After the festival was over, my son and I returned to central Israel and Arie and his sons returned to their Galilee town. I continued my succot holiday with my son and friends in the Dead Sea area, visiting Ein Gedi and Massada, far from the would-be hippies I had left near the Sea of Gailee.
I checked my messages that weekend at home to find one from Arie. He told me how much he enjoyed meeting me and wished me a good trip in the Dead Sea. After a few phone calls back and forth over the next week or so, he told me that he was going to a Sweat Lodge ceremony in Tivon, an hour south of where he lived and thought he would visit me. Well, to drive to my city from Tivon in northern Israel is another hour drive, making his commute approximately two-hours. I got the hint. It wasn't a matter of 'I'm going to be in your area", but the Sweat Lodge was an excuse for "I'm going to be closer to your area and will make the extra effort to see you if you give me the green light".
So I did. I had a subscription to the theater in Tel Aviv. To my delight, as well as hiking and new age workshops, he also liked classical music, theater, jazz and reading. Later I was to discover at his apartment old records, yes, vinal records of Neil Young, Cat Stevens, among others.
My son conveniently ended up staying at friends on that Friday night.
And that's how it all began.
This writer finally had a boyfriend that met all her criteria - non-smoking, divorced, and with children - and this time the boyfriend was not imaginary.
After the festival was over, my son and I returned to central Israel and Arie and his sons returned to their Galilee town. I continued my succot holiday with my son and friends in the Dead Sea area, visiting Ein Gedi and Massada, far from the would-be hippies I had left near the Sea of Gailee.
I checked my messages that weekend at home to find one from Arie. He told me how much he enjoyed meeting me and wished me a good trip in the Dead Sea. After a few phone calls back and forth over the next week or so, he told me that he was going to a Sweat Lodge ceremony in Tivon, an hour south of where he lived and thought he would visit me. Well, to drive to my city from Tivon in northern Israel is another hour drive, making his commute approximately two-hours. I got the hint. It wasn't a matter of 'I'm going to be in your area", but the Sweat Lodge was an excuse for "I'm going to be closer to your area and will make the extra effort to see you if you give me the green light".
So I did. I had a subscription to the theater in Tel Aviv. To my delight, as well as hiking and new age workshops, he also liked classical music, theater, jazz and reading. Later I was to discover at his apartment old records, yes, vinal records of Neil Young, Cat Stevens, among others.
My son conveniently ended up staying at friends on that Friday night.
And that's how it all began.
This writer finally had a boyfriend that met all her criteria - non-smoking, divorced, and with children - and this time the boyfriend was not imaginary.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Post 46: No Sex in the Tent
flashback to October, 2005
On the northeast side of the Sea of Galilee, during the Succot holidays, I spent a few days with Arie and his sons, Erez and Alon at the Breshit (Genesis) Festival. Born in the sixties, I was too young to be a hippy and too old to be Generation X. I was born just after the baby boomers, between generations.
I typed my essays in university on a typewriter and learned word-processing on a computer on the job. The first time I saw a fax machine was during one of my first temp jobs. I didn't fear technology because it was in its infancy. and I didn't fear new age workshops, as my mother had already been involved with the new age movement in Canada in the 70s. We just didn't know it was the new age then.
I discovered music of the 60s in the 70s, and the 70s in the 80s, always feeling I had just missed the train. Although the festival was full of teenagers, there were some families and I was happy to have hooked up with a divorced man and his sons. What I didn't expect was the intensity of the rain! My son and I had pitched our tent in the family area, about a kilometer walk from Arie and his sons' camping area.
On the second day of the festival, my son and I awoke to a downpour. The food court area was drenched. The workshop area was soaked. One of the only warm place was in the lake itself...but until we got there, we visited Arie in his home away from home. He had hooked his appliances up to the electricity of the staff area and made us coffee and tea. He had a foldup table and chairs, two or three tents, one for each of his sons and enough food to feed us as well as his offspring.
With nothing to do, my son entered ten-year old Alon's tent, and Arie offered to play backgammon with me in his tent. I beat him at the first few games, but Alon told my son that I spent the entire time having sex with his father in the tent.
This writer did not know that backgammon had sexual overtones.
On the northeast side of the Sea of Galilee, during the Succot holidays, I spent a few days with Arie and his sons, Erez and Alon at the Breshit (Genesis) Festival. Born in the sixties, I was too young to be a hippy and too old to be Generation X. I was born just after the baby boomers, between generations.
I typed my essays in university on a typewriter and learned word-processing on a computer on the job. The first time I saw a fax machine was during one of my first temp jobs. I didn't fear technology because it was in its infancy. and I didn't fear new age workshops, as my mother had already been involved with the new age movement in Canada in the 70s. We just didn't know it was the new age then.
I discovered music of the 60s in the 70s, and the 70s in the 80s, always feeling I had just missed the train. Although the festival was full of teenagers, there were some families and I was happy to have hooked up with a divorced man and his sons. What I didn't expect was the intensity of the rain! My son and I had pitched our tent in the family area, about a kilometer walk from Arie and his sons' camping area.
On the second day of the festival, my son and I awoke to a downpour. The food court area was drenched. The workshop area was soaked. One of the only warm place was in the lake itself...but until we got there, we visited Arie in his home away from home. He had hooked his appliances up to the electricity of the staff area and made us coffee and tea. He had a foldup table and chairs, two or three tents, one for each of his sons and enough food to feed us as well as his offspring.
With nothing to do, my son entered ten-year old Alon's tent, and Arie offered to play backgammon with me in his tent. I beat him at the first few games, but Alon told my son that I spent the entire time having sex with his father in the tent.
This writer did not know that backgammon had sexual overtones.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Post 45: Finding a Haven Despite the Teenagers
flashback to october, 2005
Arie and his exwife named their children according to the same letter of the alphabet - the Hebrew letter aleph - Alma, Erez and Alon. The first one I met was the Alon, the ten year old.
Arie and Alon greeted us near the main gate of the festival area. After a kilometer walk from the family camping area, we found our meeting place and introduced ourselves. Arie and I had met a week or so earlier at a party. I didn't know if he was coming with a girlfriend or by himself, but I was happy to see a familiar face and even happier that my son would have some company among the hippies who seemed to have forgotten that there are no more hippies left. We decided to go the the evening performances together, featuring Israeli artists - not mainstream but not too alternative either. This suited me fine.
Arie had half his house with him. He had even set hooked up some of his appliances to the electric system of the festival employees. The reason he was set up in the staff section is that his 15 year old, Erez, was working in the children's area, helping with ceramics and other activities. Erez was apparently hanging out with his teenage peers, while Arie, Alon and my son hung out together, listening to the likes of Mika Karni and the sons of the late Meir Ariel. A few groups had cancelled because of the impending rain, but we didn't care.
This writer realized that she was actually having fun at this festival despite it being invaded by teenagers.
Arie and his exwife named their children according to the same letter of the alphabet - the Hebrew letter aleph - Alma, Erez and Alon. The first one I met was the Alon, the ten year old.
Arie and Alon greeted us near the main gate of the festival area. After a kilometer walk from the family camping area, we found our meeting place and introduced ourselves. Arie and I had met a week or so earlier at a party. I didn't know if he was coming with a girlfriend or by himself, but I was happy to see a familiar face and even happier that my son would have some company among the hippies who seemed to have forgotten that there are no more hippies left. We decided to go the the evening performances together, featuring Israeli artists - not mainstream but not too alternative either. This suited me fine.
Arie had half his house with him. He had even set hooked up some of his appliances to the electric system of the festival employees. The reason he was set up in the staff section is that his 15 year old, Erez, was working in the children's area, helping with ceramics and other activities. Erez was apparently hanging out with his teenage peers, while Arie, Alon and my son hung out together, listening to the likes of Mika Karni and the sons of the late Meir Ariel. A few groups had cancelled because of the impending rain, but we didn't care.
This writer realized that she was actually having fun at this festival despite it being invaded by teenagers.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Post 44: Busride with an adult, some teenagers and the vodka bottles
flashback to October, 2005
I signed a contract with a new hitech company so I had a month off, free of job interviews and going to work. But I still didn't have a car. This wasn't so bad during the week, but Israeli Jewish holidays proved to be a bit challenging. Trains don't run during the Sabbath and religious holidays, and buses are hard to find, except in some of the mixed neighborhoods and cities such as Haifa.
Therefore, being secular and having the high holidays fall smack in the middle of the week can make you feel stranded. Rosh hashana passed. Yom kippur passed. Then it was Succot. There was no way we were going to spend 4 days without a car stuck in our house eating Pasta and watching DVDs of Seinfeld.
There were two new age festivals that were meant for families during the festival of Succot - one was Festival Breshit, at the Sea of Galilee and one was Segol, at the Dor beach. I didn't know one from the other, so I asked my son to choose. He chose fresh water over sea water, and that's how we ended up, one quiet morning during Succot, on a chartered bus - an eleven year old, a forty-two year old, and a bus full of teenagers with minimal shanti style clothing, multiple body-piercing, tattoos and vodka.
This was the bus to the family festival. After about ten minutes on the bus, I was ready to turn around. But I had already paid for the fares and so there was no turning back. There was nowhere to go anyway. Our tent and backpack were already in the baggage compartment of the bus and I was determined to get away from the city life, even though I missed driving the company car and stopping wherever I wanted to, whenever I wanted to.
Eventually we reached our destination on the eastern part of the Sea of Gailee, along with thousands of other teenagers, and thankfully, a few families. The family camping area was uncomfortably close to the noisy chai shop where many of the teenagers partied all night.
But before nightfall, I still had to pitch my tent, and there was someone who had offered to help me with that.
This writer called Arie's cellphone. There was no answer so she asked someone else to help her with the tent. Shortly before the sunset, her phone rang.
I signed a contract with a new hitech company so I had a month off, free of job interviews and going to work. But I still didn't have a car. This wasn't so bad during the week, but Israeli Jewish holidays proved to be a bit challenging. Trains don't run during the Sabbath and religious holidays, and buses are hard to find, except in some of the mixed neighborhoods and cities such as Haifa.
Therefore, being secular and having the high holidays fall smack in the middle of the week can make you feel stranded. Rosh hashana passed. Yom kippur passed. Then it was Succot. There was no way we were going to spend 4 days without a car stuck in our house eating Pasta and watching DVDs of Seinfeld.
There were two new age festivals that were meant for families during the festival of Succot - one was Festival Breshit, at the Sea of Galilee and one was Segol, at the Dor beach. I didn't know one from the other, so I asked my son to choose. He chose fresh water over sea water, and that's how we ended up, one quiet morning during Succot, on a chartered bus - an eleven year old, a forty-two year old, and a bus full of teenagers with minimal shanti style clothing, multiple body-piercing, tattoos and vodka.
This was the bus to the family festival. After about ten minutes on the bus, I was ready to turn around. But I had already paid for the fares and so there was no turning back. There was nowhere to go anyway. Our tent and backpack were already in the baggage compartment of the bus and I was determined to get away from the city life, even though I missed driving the company car and stopping wherever I wanted to, whenever I wanted to.
Eventually we reached our destination on the eastern part of the Sea of Gailee, along with thousands of other teenagers, and thankfully, a few families. The family camping area was uncomfortably close to the noisy chai shop where many of the teenagers partied all night.
But before nightfall, I still had to pitch my tent, and there was someone who had offered to help me with that.
This writer called Arie's cellphone. There was no answer so she asked someone else to help her with the tent. Shortly before the sunset, her phone rang.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Post 43: He appeared from the sidelines
flashback to October, 2005
Free. No work. No car. No boyfriend. No worries.
After 4 and a half years working at a hitech job in central Israel, I didn't yet know that they were about to lay me off. Before they could make a move, I had a massive Crohns-Colitis attack, the second of my life and ended up in hospital. It was a slow recovery with a lot of suffering and a few benefits. The first benefit was that I lost about ten kilos in a month (do NOT try this diet at home!) and men were looking at me again....people at work thought I was on vacation. Others thought I was pregnant, thanks to the steroids that I was on.
And since they didn't want to lay me off while I was sick, they waited a few months and gave me my notice in May. This gave me a few months to negotiate my dismissal and prepare for my new life.
Summer lent itself to a carefree life. Yes, I was job searching, but I was also rediscovering men and rather enjoying the attention. I didn't really want a boyfriend, since I was happy to have my health and life back. It really wasn't important anymore. But i went to a lot of social gatherings in order to network with men (and women) and find out about job leads. Since I was focused on the leads, and not on the men, they seemed happy to talk to me. In the end, they actually sent me cvs to send to the company I worked for, but that's another story.
The other project I took on was to set up my ex bachelor friends. Since I realized that I really really really had to swear off bachelors, the least i could do was take them to parties where they may be attracted to marriage-minded eligible young women of child-rearing age.
Little did I know that the party I took one of my friends to would actually attract my future boyfriend. I thought that the party, in northern Israel, would be full of young people, but we were the youngest there. The guests thought we were a couple, so they spoke to me with utmost confidence.
And then he appeared from the sidelines. He was interested in the carrot-orange juice that I bought, not in me, and he promptly drank almost the entire litre. We had a short conversation and we discovered that we were both headed for the same spiritual festival at the Sea of Galilee - festival Breshit - and both with our sons. We exchanged phone numbers and said we'd try to meet up there.
Nice. A divorced guy with a boy almost the same age as my son. Someone to help me put up my tent.
This writer forgot about why she had come to the party in the first place. her bachelor friend stayed a bachelor, but not for long.
Free. No work. No car. No boyfriend. No worries.
After 4 and a half years working at a hitech job in central Israel, I didn't yet know that they were about to lay me off. Before they could make a move, I had a massive Crohns-Colitis attack, the second of my life and ended up in hospital. It was a slow recovery with a lot of suffering and a few benefits. The first benefit was that I lost about ten kilos in a month (do NOT try this diet at home!) and men were looking at me again....people at work thought I was on vacation. Others thought I was pregnant, thanks to the steroids that I was on.
And since they didn't want to lay me off while I was sick, they waited a few months and gave me my notice in May. This gave me a few months to negotiate my dismissal and prepare for my new life.
Summer lent itself to a carefree life. Yes, I was job searching, but I was also rediscovering men and rather enjoying the attention. I didn't really want a boyfriend, since I was happy to have my health and life back. It really wasn't important anymore. But i went to a lot of social gatherings in order to network with men (and women) and find out about job leads. Since I was focused on the leads, and not on the men, they seemed happy to talk to me. In the end, they actually sent me cvs to send to the company I worked for, but that's another story.
The other project I took on was to set up my ex bachelor friends. Since I realized that I really really really had to swear off bachelors, the least i could do was take them to parties where they may be attracted to marriage-minded eligible young women of child-rearing age.
Little did I know that the party I took one of my friends to would actually attract my future boyfriend. I thought that the party, in northern Israel, would be full of young people, but we were the youngest there. The guests thought we were a couple, so they spoke to me with utmost confidence.
And then he appeared from the sidelines. He was interested in the carrot-orange juice that I bought, not in me, and he promptly drank almost the entire litre. We had a short conversation and we discovered that we were both headed for the same spiritual festival at the Sea of Galilee - festival Breshit - and both with our sons. We exchanged phone numbers and said we'd try to meet up there.
Nice. A divorced guy with a boy almost the same age as my son. Someone to help me put up my tent.
This writer forgot about why she had come to the party in the first place. her bachelor friend stayed a bachelor, but not for long.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
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.
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.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
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".
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!
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Post 40: Ecology and Loneliness
Originally created as Column Forty, January, 2005
I’m starting to think that all my single friends whether they are never married, widowed, divorced with children or divorced without don’t REALLY want to meet someone new…not deep down in their subconscious. On the one hand, we want to feel excitement, butterflies in their stomach, something different, new, explore and conquer the unknown….
I’m starting to think that all my single friends whether they are never married, widowed, divorced with children or divorced without don’t REALLY want to meet someone new…not deep down in their subconscious. On the one hand, we want to feel excitement, butterflies in their stomach, something different, new, explore and conquer the unknown….
But on the other hand we want the familiarity of people who have known them from 1-30 years, friends, people who have been with them through rough and better times, the familiarity of a hug or a smile or a certain joke, the ability to tease and yet being able to forgive…in short, everything that comes with being a friend….
And forever reason the “comfort’ of the “chevreh” (group of friends) is like the hug of a mother to a child…no replacement for it. And although sex has sometimes come into place with some of the chevreh, being that the “chevreh” consists of certain people who may or may not have slept with each other at some point within the last 1-20 years, it is not the main factor.
So you get together, some hormones rage, some don’t. “Hey Odelia, are you going back to Holon? My friend Dana lives there and it would be great if you could give her a lift back – otherwise I have to drive out of my way”, I said at a gathering of friends and friends of friends on a cold and rainy Saturday night approximately 30 kilometers away from Tel Aviv…”I haven’t decided if I’m going home” replied Odelia. (Odelia obviously did not have a young child or babysitter waiting for her to come home to Tel Aviv).
Ah, I understand later as I see her lurking next to the car of my ex boyfriend…later I find out she did go back to Tel Aviv – my ex boyfriend wanted her to stay over in the city where he lives. So he was rejected….he’s hard to resist…surprised that she rejected him…he didn’t even look me in the eye, but that was ok….I’ve moved on…maybe not….and so I dropped Dana off in Tel Aviv and went home alone but then get a call to see if I got home ok and then invited the caller over…it was a cold and rainy night. The caller wasn’t my recent ex boyfriend but there were endless possibilities of who would end up with whom that evening.
This writer asks why accept a hug from a stranger when you can recycle?
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