I am starting this blog from a small cafe (could I get anymore cliché, please?) near my apartment. I admit it, I’m a walking cliché. I am a single, unemployed female in my late 20’s, looking for the one. I live with a roommate, but will soon be moving out into my own apartment to conquer the big, bad city. I’m finishing grad school, looking for work, looking for an apartment, and looking for love all at the same time. No biggie (!!!). What’s the catch? My big bad city is Tel Aviv. New York City? Been there, done that. Tel Aviv is my city. It’s so vibrant and alive!
In NYC, I felt like I saw hundreds of thousands of people a day and none of them saw me; in Tel Aviv, I see thousands of people and not only do they see me, they talk to me! They strike up conversation (whether you want them to or not), they touch your life and you touch theirs. Tel Aviv was once described to me as one big kibbutz. I didn’t get it at first, but now I do.
Maybe there is something wrong with me. I’m facing all of these life changes (big, scary, impending, looming life changes) and none of them freak me out. I’m not worried. I’ll find work. I’ll find an apartment I can afford. And I’ll love both of them. In NYC, I was stressed all the time. ALL the time. This is not an exaggeration. In Tel Aviv, life is just that – life. I’m actually living. I have traveled beyond the normal borders, and yes, there is life out there!
So, here I am in my cafe. Because this is Israel and random occurrences are what it’s known for, the theme song from The Golden Girls starts playing through the speakers. Immediately I am transported back to the early 1990’s, laying on my mother’s bed in our apartment, watching mesmerized. Truth time: I idolized Blanche. I must have been 10 years old and, to me, she was the definition of woman. So sexy, so confident, having great sex all the time, so beautiful, so witty. Maybe this was the beginning of the end of my relationships with men. Maybe my love life never had a fighting chance, because at such a tender age, I was influenced by the epitome of southern belle harlot charm. But, even Blanche had a husband with whom she was madly in love and faithful to. So, maybe there’s hope for me yet.
I also remember that immediately after The Golden Girls, I used to watch Tiny Toon Adventures, but that is neither here nor there.
So, don’t fret. This blog won’t be entirely about my quest for love, but it is a major theme. I’m not pretending to be Carrie Bradshaw or anything, using my pen (or keyboard as the case may be) to uncover the mystery to dating in the big city. The world does not need one more young single writer female posing as Carrie Bradshaw on an insignificant blog that maybe 100 people will read. To these girls, I say: I know the pull is strong, but you have to resist! Carrie is fictional, people! I know she seems real, but really, she’s not. Her life was scripted and you are not able to pull it off as well as her writers were. Real life is so much more interesting anyway!
Get me? Good. Welcome and stay tuned!