A friend of mine, the President of the confirmed bachelor club, recently announced his engagement to a woman he has known for almost nine years. Over the years, so many of us looked upon this relationship with confusion, wondering why this woman followed around this man who proclaimed that he would never be ready to commit. Her wait was apparently worthwhile.
I gushed for both of them; he was my back-up plan, years ago we had discussed being together if we got old and grey and remained single.
In honor of the holiday, I received an email that a well-known matchmaker would be in Jerusalem, and that she would be hosting a singles' function on Saturday night, Chol Hamoed Succot.
I am feeling surprisingly ambivalent about the concept of men, dating and marriage. I even found myself thinking today that somehow, I have lost my need for expressing my sexuality. I look at some people's husbands and married life, and think, "What's so great about that anyway? I am a happy person right now." After years of terrible dates, and with all the activity I have in my day-to-day existence as a full-time doctor and a full-time mother, I would have to decide to find the time and more important, open myself to the possibility.
That being said, I do love myself and know that I have a lot to offer. I want to feel loved as an adult, as a wife with my life partner, exclusive of my position as Raphaela's mother, but I am loathe to get involved with a man who may impact me or my daughter negatively.
Is it the fear of rejection that holds me back, or the fear of getting hurt, or more insidiously, the fear of actually snagging the good guy and feeling like I don't deserve it?
This past week at some point on Yom Kippur, perhaps induced by exhaustion combined with fasting, I looked at my body and felt ugly and out of shape. That counter-productive voice in my head started putting me down until I was able to dismiss it and banish those nasty thoughts.
I know many single mothers by choice, and most of them have in fact not married since the birth of their children, and I wish it bothered me more than it does.
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