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 37: The Ice Cream Test

originally created as Column Thirty-seven, October, 2003



The Ice Cream Test

We had 20 minutes to kill before the movie and there was no place to grab a coffee, so my date and I entered the ice cream parlor on the floor above the movie theater. I wasn’t particularly in the mood for ice cream but there wasn’t much choice unless we wanted to stroll around the popular drug-store franchise. It was my second date with Aaron and already I knew that we had a lot in common: Both divorced with children, both working in hi-tech, both from English speaking countries with no parents in Israel and both of us liking the tv show “Sex and the City”.

The ice cream bar featured numerous flavors and then came the shock. He ordered two scoops of chocolate ice cream. I stood astonished as he chose the chocolate among the multitude of flavors ranging from lemon sherbet and strawberry cheesecake to poppyseed and pistachio. He looked at me, explaining “I know that vanilla is the most popular flavor around the world, but I like chocolate.” We sat down with our ice cream (I decided that I needed a sugar fix at this point to recover from my shock, and ordered one scoop of lemon sherbet). I leaned over the table and whispered quietly to him “I’ve heard of people like you. I just didn’t know they actually existed.” Then I realized that I might have hurt his feelings by insinuating that he was “common”, and I thought more deeply about the subject. If he had so many choices and chose chocolate, then maybe this was actually a good sign. Maybe this was a sign of knowing what he wants and sticking to it. Of faithfulness. Of devotion. A man who could be surrounded by diverse and plentiful flavours of ice cream and yet still stick to his favourite might do the same regarding women. Say he's at a business conference in Europe, surrounded by a multitude of women of varying heights, ages and figures, wearing different colored clothes, and speaking different languages, he would resist the temptation to try any of the options available. So therefore, who needs a private detective?

To the woman wanting to know if your potential boyfriend is a Don Juan or a one-woman man, this writer says: Simply take him out for ice cream.

Post 36: A 'cheep' (not cheap) overnight guest

originally created as Column 36, June 2003

A “cheep” (not cheap) Overnight Guest
NO SLEEP CAUSE OF CHEEP CHEEP CHEEP....

I couldn't sleep last night cause there was a loud chirp or beep beep beep
in my 9 year old son’s room all night. I thought it was his alarm clock or a plastic hammer or some other toy that you get if you order a children’s meal at McDonald's. But I couldn’t find any toys. Then I thought it might be a car alarm. It was driving me crazy and I couldn't sleep. I closed my door but it was really loud. I was up til 3 or 4 am. Then at 5 am my son came to my room and told me he couldn't sleep cause there was something chirping in his room. I said, it stopped...just stay in my room and we'll deal with it in the morning, so we slept for 2 hours and then in the morning., we went to his room and heard NOTHING.

I said to my son”, this is crazy, I need to find out what the noise was. I can't take another night of this cheep cheep cheep as loud as a car alarm. I took apart everything in his room and still.....silence....

Then we heard faintly again CHEEP CHEEP CHEEP....if it was a bird or a
housefly the thing would use its wings, and if it was a mouse, there would be droppings, and it was mechanical it wouldn't stop the minute I walked into the room …and then my son suddenly saw something and yelled “COCKROACH!!!!”

But Cockroaches don't sing. (They are actually quiet) It was a cricket!!!!

I ran for the RAID and finally killed him....

This writer is now relieved to see cockroaches sneaking around the kitchen at night. At least they don’t sing!

Post 35: C'mon Baby Light My Fire

originally created as Column Thirty-Five, April, 2003

I told everyone I would have a boyfriend by my 40th birthday. Well I don’t. So I am inviting 4 ex-boyfriends (at least) to my birthday. Oh, and I wanted someone to really turn me on for my birthday. Someone to make me feel really hot. And instead I got a real fire. Yup, my split-unit air conditioner/heater short circuited and went up in flames 2 weeks before my birthday. I’ve wanted to spend the night in someone else’s home for quite some time. Well, I did –had to sleep at the neighbors during the night of the fire to avoid smoke inhalation. I wanted to meet new men, so I did. Fire fighters, insurance agents, paramedics, appraisers and air conditioning salesmen.

On the program, “Sex in the City”, the fire fighters were well built and sexy. In Israel, all this writer received was a bill from the fire department.

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 33: The Cinderella Syndrome

originally created as column 33, December, 2002


Carrie Bradshaw, the protagonist in the t.v. series “Sex and the City” likes shoes and buys them. Expensive ones. Lots of them. High quality shoes. I buy shoes on sale. And for the first time ever she bought shoes in a second hand store on a kibbutz. Cheap. Really cheap. But she used them, and walked with them. And wore them to work. Several times.

I also love to get all dressed up but in Israel people can wear jeans to work as well as out in the evening. Most don’t, but it is hard to find an opportunity to wear an elegant dress. Even at weddings it is less common to see jeans but various styles of pants are common. But I am not an expert on fashion nor do I follow the crowds. And I definitely do not have the style or figure of Carrie Bradshaw. You will not catch me dead with my huge stomach exposed or low cut pants. Thank goodness for the return of high cut pants and the demise of mini skirts. Hemlines are all over the place allowing shortwaisted and not so tall women like me the opportunity to choose whatever length skirt or pants I desire….

And so at work you will see me wearing glasses and casual pants with a twin set, sweater or jacket, I have also been sighted with Bohemian style dresses, pom pom draped shirts or tailored suits. And I have dated men who don only jeans as well as men who have Italian shirts and suits featured in the wardrobe (one whose apartment was filthy but whose suits were meticulous).

And then it happened. Beware. The Bachelors are Back. I tried to meet divorcees. I must give off “stay away” when a divorcee with a child sees me coming. I even had a second date with a divorced non-smoking, guitar playing, educated father of three. And then he disappeared. Yup. Many of my friends and colleagues, some of them having never been married before have married or are dating divorcees with children and I am dating a bachelor.

I could see right from our first date that Ariel knew how to dress. From his shiny pumpkin brown shoes to his ironed brown pants (material unknown but not blue denim), freshly applied aftershave (how he did that when coming straight from work I don’t know), I realized that this was a guy who should appreciate the dresses I have been hiding in my closet.

And then the opportunity arose. He invited me to an end of year party from his workplace. It was winter in Israel, and yet I knew that there would be over 400 people and the place would warm up. What should I wear? Classic long black velvet or a mid length but sexy olive green dress with a V-neck and colored beads framing the hemline? I immediately knew that it had to be the green dress, but I did not know how to deal with the temperature factor until Dafna provided me with the perfect accessories – a drape around green and black scarf, an elegant grey black and white beaded Yemenite style necklace which I matched with delicate greyish-black earrings. I got my hair styled smooth and straight for a change instead of my usual wild curly look and all that was left was makeup, beige stockings without a run and …..shoes.

The inconspicuous four-eyed office employee during the day turned into Cinderella in the evening. And the evening could not have been more perfect. The two week rainstorm had finally come to a halt, my son was sleeping over at a friend’s house and Ariel was coming to pick me up.

From my bitter experience, if something will go wrong, it will go wrong. Usually this involves the car breaking down, the babysitter forgetting which day to show up, a virus or a date’s friend dying or a date getting sick himself. Not even a terrorist attack stopped the evening from starting on time, as planned and I even got some verbal reaction from the handsome but mainly silent bachelor. He took a sort of double take, a half smile and then said “matim lach” – it becomes you. Ha! I thought.. A far cry from the bulky long blue sweater I layered on top of a turtleneck and the frizzy uncombed hair I sported on the sunny but semi-cool day that we met on a hike with a bunch of friends.

So Cinderella and Prince Charming drove in her modern day chariot, a company car she could not afford but drove anyway to the modern day ball – a wedding hall near the beach. As she stepped out of the car, Cinderella lost her slipper. There it was on the ground. Half of her left heel. Of her left shoe. Her second hand shoe. Her elegant and matching but CHEAP left shoe!

Goodbye Cinderella. Back to crisis management Galit…..what to do?

Go barefoot into the events hall (with stockings, not so nice)
Break the other shoe (Might not work – at least I can walk with one normal shoe)
Go home and get another pair of shoes (we were already late and would miss the evening)
Go to next door shopping center and look for shoes (they only sell running shoes)
Go to Home Center and buy glue.

Guess who didn’t bring money with her, or even a credit card that evening? Me. Ariel, thank goodness, the super glue only cost 10 shekels (2 US dollars at the time – 3.5 dollars at the time of this posting in 2008) and the shopping center was still open. The handyman there was very helpful, sanded down the shoe and glued the heel back. He said his father’s dream was always that he be a shoemaker and now I made his dream come true. And he healed the heel. And Prince Charming rescued Cinderella with buying super glue. And the embarrassed Cinderella knew that she would never be a princess, even for an evening as if something is to go wrong, it goes wrong.

But the car had fuel. The flu bug stayed away. The pantyhose didn’t run. The terrorists decided to stay home and get their laundry dry. My son stayed healthy and didn’t run away from his friend’s home.

In fairy tales, the prince gets married to Cinderella after finding her slipper, but in this writer’s life, all she wants to know is….will there be a fifth date???????

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.

My comments have disappeared

ok, this is just too weird. My comments have disappeared. Starting with the last few posts, there is no "comment" window . I'm going to post this and see what happens. I already went to my dashboard and set the comments accordingly, thanks to advice from a fellow blogger. So here it goes

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?