Israelis are known for their gregarious behavior and love nothing more than spending time with their group of close friends. It’s a trait that is wreaking havoc among the quickly mushrooming singles population and threatens to have long-range anthropological effects on Israel’s future society.
I was in seventh grade when my dad took me to see a Turkish movie exploring the lives of five prisoners given a week’s home leave in the aftermath of a coup d’etat.
What is the difference between a pit bull and a Jewish Mother? The pit bull eventually lets go.
When Susan first e-mailed me, it was to pitch herself to one of my single peeps. One of the pictures she sent me was of her standing, in a blue cocktail dress, one hand leaning on a silver Aston Martin, in the driveway of a beautiful home. Not wanting my peep to think she was high maintenance, she made it clear that the picture was taken at a party and it wasn’t her car. “The only reason I sent the picture is because my guy friends insisted on it, but I’m much more like the cool girl next door.” I liked the honesty and asked her if she wanted to become a Single Peep.
I wrote and starred in a short film, and the director brought Charles in as DP (director of photography). I’ve shot quite a few videos before — always simple setups with a small crew. So when I asked my friend Yitzy if we could use his apartment to shoot a video, I assured him it would be unassuming.
Status used to be about social hierarchy -- whether you made a good living or were born into the right family or had achieved prominence in your community. But these days, if you say the word "status" to Generation Single-and-Facebooking, you may be understood very differently
In an earlier column I talked about the differences between an "almost" and a "beshert," and how I will always have a special place in my heart for that "almost" who helped me to find myself and the person that I'm supposed to be with. What I realize now is that as time goes by, my "almost," just like nearly every memory of old friendships, is starting to fade in importance.
It's been three months since we called it a wrap. We'd become different people than we were and outgrew the priorities we used to share. To say I'll miss his sarcastic jabs, one-ups or whoops of victory when he opens a single paycheck worth half my yearly salary -- that would be a stretch. But the competition did push us to improve our craft, to excel, to outdo ourselves, along with each other.
So, hopefully, despite the fact that I'm not suffocatingly lonely or in a relationship laced with toxic levels of resentment, I still have a fertile patch of pain from which insights can grow, like that brilliant one I had earlier about leaving the house. What a relief.
Once, I went out with this guy who was really traditional -- not Jewishly, but when it came to dating. He believed in chivalry: If we drove somewhere, he would always run around to my side and open the door, even though it took longer and I was perfectly capable of opening it myself.
Do I have a sign on my forehead that says, "Fix me up"?
It's the marriage that's important, not the wedding.
When planning my wedding, I repeated that mantra each time wedding details began to overwhelm me. Hors d'oeuvres, centerpieces, flowers, music, cake -- the to-do list kept growing.
As time passes, the memories that you built with your "almost" lose their tainted nature, and you can once again smile at them. Life changes, and before you know it, you walk around the corner and into the arms of your "beshert," and all you can wish for is that all of your "almosts" will find theirs as well. So while I'm sitting around with my family this Thanksgiving, I'll be sure to add a silent thank you to all of my "almosts," as they helped me find what I've been searching for.
Hello, my name is Caroline, and I am in love with my car ... there I've said it.
It's the season to be sorry. It's that time of year when we go over all of our deeds, things we have done to others, to God, to ourselves and ask for forgiveness -- and grant it to those who need it from us.
Jennifer Westfeldt is gracious, even humble, in accepting the compliment that starts this interview. She has been told that a recent essay on cineastes -- "Jewish Humor, After Woody" -- called her "the most intriguing candidate to forge a career of intelligent, dialogue-driven films about the comic possibilities of modern relationships." In other words, she may be the next Woody Allen.
I open Esther Perel's new book on the bus, and I know that my seatmate is staring at the cover photo of a man and woman in bed not touching beneath the red sheets. "Mating in Captivity: Reconciling the Erotic & the Domestic" (HarperCollins) has caught the man's attention, but he maintains the bus rider's code and doesn't ask about it. Perel's book has also captured the attention of large numbers of readers, journalists and producers.
My Midwest friends started tying the knot at 19. Some of them had been double knotted by the time they were 25. I, on the other hand, waited until I was 35 to tie the knot for the first time, and my husband, Aaron, who is 11 years older than me, took his initial walk down the aisle at age 46, with salt-and-pepper hair and laugh lines under the eyes. Although I would not necessary recommend waiting for Social Security, there are many big benefits of marrying later in life.
In the last year, my younger brother has been asking for and taking my dating advice on an almost daily basis. It's a fact that continues to astound me. This isn't to say I don't have anything worthwhile to say on the topic, despite the fact that I'm married now and raising two kids. It's more that I've simply never had this kind of relationship with him before.
I met "Mr. Nice Guy" more than three years ago, and I cherish our special connection -- he's affectionate, understanding, a good listener, open-minded, practical ...
I had been on more than 200 first dates in Los Angeles.
I'd learned exactly what I was not looking for.
When I saw how happy my sister was, I realized that this wedding experience wasn't about me. It wasn't about creating a gender balance in my family. It wasn't about gaining a big brother.
I'm an accomplished exec. I worked hard to get here. I work hard for the money. But work never gets in the way of dating, and dating never gets in the way of work.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Rabbi Aryeh Pamensky holds the secret to your incredible, unbelievable and unparalleled happiness," announces the emcee in a dimly lit nightspot where hundreds of Jews are gathered, each hoping to attain what half of Americans find unattainable: a happy marriage."
When my friend Lisa dropped by to report on her blind date, clutching a bottle of antacids and sporting a brand-new twitch in her eye, I sensed that it hadn't gone well.
People say they don't really know me. That's what the last guy I dated said.
The practitioner of Chinese medicine decided that maybe she needed a little education in the field of dating. This led her to Tel Aviv's Date School, the only psychotherapy-based dating program in Israel -- and perhaps the world -- which literally teaches people how to be more effective, self-aware and informed daters.
n March, I had the privilege of co-starring in the Jerusalem premiere of Neil LaBute's play "Some Girl(s)" at the Center Stage Theater at Merkaz Hamagshimim Hadassah. The play follows Guy, an about-to-be-married 33-year-old American writer, as he tracks down his ex-flames to "right some wrongs" so he can begin his new life with a clean slate ... or so it seems.