Men

I felt sad over the weekend. My son is growing up to be a man. I don't know whether that is a good thing or a bad thing. He brought me all his kiddie pajamas and said kids his age don't wear those to bed anymore. They were white with cartoon figures on them. Sure. He's 13. He wears track pants to bed. An era is over. We went through all his stuff and through out all the size 12 stuff. Actually we left the clothing outside the garbage for the bedouin to take. The bedouin won't take it if you give it to them. They are too proud. They wait for people to leave stuff near the dumpster and if they see whatever is useful in a public area, then they'll take it. I've seen the kids look inside the garbage and fish out things. But I'll put the clothing on the sidewalk near the trash for easier "fishing." And he gave me a list of suitable colours for him to wear. White, black, blue and grey only. No greens, oranges, purples, reds. I hope he's not getting as bad as the girls.

Last evening we had a class picnic/barbecue in the park with his class as a getting-to-know-each-other thing. It was great and we felt so comfortable. I made friends with a couple more mothers and there was one other American mother. Turns out she is a messianic Jew, and it didn't take Hubby long to flush that one out of her. She's alot of fun, and as long as she doesn't proseletize and tell me I'm going to burn in hell, we'll get along just fine. But son warned me at the onset of the picnic "not to talk to me while I'm with my friends." Who wants to talk to kids anyways. Not me. Keep away. But in the end, he came over and actually sat near me.

Men - Part II

Hubby took me out to dinner today. He never ceases to embarrass me in public, but my love for wining and dining overpowers any embarrassment I may feel so I cope. I asked the waitress what she recommends and told her I like meat very soft. She shook her head and told me it wasn't "that" soft. Hubby said to her -

"Why don't you learn to lie."

"Honey, I want her to tell me the truth about the food here. Is that so terrible?"

He then looked around the place and saw we were the only "secular" Jews around. Everyone else was ultra-orthodox. He asked the waitress for a kippah and then said he was only joking. By then they realized he was nuts.

"You are the only woman in this place wearing pants besides the waitresses."

We both laughed. I was also the only person in the crowded restaurant eating with chopsticks.

Our meal was ok - nothing really special. They went heavy on the cornstarch for the sauces. I took my fork to slide the servings onto my plate. Hubby - also known as Mr. Manners - tells me I dirtied up the plate and should have taken a spoon for cleaner serving.

Oh.

We went to get our bill. Luckily I had a 10% off coupon which we were only too happy to use. We ordered sushi but it came without Nori seaweed. I was appalled. The waitress said the nori wasn't "kosher" enough for this establishment.

"But the wasabi is?"

At least they had that. And pickled ginger.

I picked at my teeth and Hubby glared - "Don't do THAT in public." Fortunately I have floss in my purse just for when we get back in the car.

We got up to walk around and saw the older, more picturesque part of the restaurant.

"Oh so this must be the smooching area" said Hubby while the ultra-Orthodox couples in that area glared at him. They never smooch in public.

Outside he tells me "I told the maitre d' the food was good but we're never coming back here again."

"Aren't you the charmer! They probably don't give two hoots because the place is packed and it's only Tuesday."

We went to pick up my kids who were clothes shopping. I happily flossed my teeth in the car, away from the restaurant patrons. I would think Hubby would approve. He didn't.

"Don't floss your teeth in front of people."

"They're not people - they're our kids."

And I thanked God that at least I had teeth to floss.

Be afraid, be very afraid

I'm not like most of my spontaneous friends. They go away on holidays, spur of the moment, and when they land then they figure out where they're going to stay, where they're going to go, etc. I'm not like that at all. I'm a self-control freak. As soon as I found out I was going to India, I surfed the net for places to visit, for maps, for train travel details, for restaurant information and general stories about those particular cities I'm visiting, plus of course, the history of the cities, culture and customs of the people, etc.

Plus I had fun over the weekend teasing Hubby, who's always paranoid that someone from Al Qaida is lurking somewhere very close to me.

"You know I'm not flying El Al" I said to him sweetly. "I'm flying Royal Jordanian airlines".

"Royal J-J-J-Jordanian???" he stammered

I expected that reaction from him. So I continued.

"And it stops off in Amman. You never know who'll be sitting next to me on the flight! Probably someone from Al Qaida! Al Qaida! Al Qaida!" I was delirious.

"You don't know what you're doing" He exclaimed.

I continued.

"Amritsar is 15 kilometers from the Pakistan border!!! Isn't that great!???" I neglected to tell him that the peace group there will be trying to organize a site visit inside Pakistan. I think he'll lock me away and not let me fly if he only knew.

Trouble is - India sounds scary. All the stuff I've perused on the internet made me think I'm crazy for going at this alone for part of the trip anyways. Everything scares me now - from the monkeys that climb in through your window and steal your food, from the 2 lane highways that turn into 4 lanes, from the very narrow mountainous roads and crazy drivers, from cows walking into restaurants, and warnings that women shouldn't really travel there alone because of all the seedy men on the buses and trains that try and squeeze up against you. Not to mention the luggage stealing, purse-snatching thieves in Delhi. HELP!

But then again, these aren't Israelis that are writing this stuff - mostly Americans and British. I don't think Israelis have anything bad to say about India. I have never met any Israeli who has been to India that had experienced anything negative. They all want to go back for longer stays. And they end up staying for at least a month at a time. It must be the karma...

Signs of the Times

The crazies with signs were out yesterday. I couldn't grab my camera fast enough while Hubby was driving, but they really were out. A pair of parrot-dressed crazies were screaming and yelling in English and carrying signs about Yitzchak Rabin.

"His murderer is living among us" shouted the lady. On her sign, was a website - www.rabin.com or www.yitzchakrabin.com - I don't really remember. I had no idea what they were on about. They were loud and irritating.

One elderly gentleman was walking across a busy intersection - in the STREET - carrying a huge sign in Hebrew and English - Sharon gives land to terrorists. There were people honking at him acknowledging that they believe he is right. Then Hubby turned the intersection honking his horn wildly at the man. What is my man doing? I thought. Hubby screams out the window.

"Get off the fucking street, you idiot!!"

India

There's no limits to God's goodness and what He can do. I really believe this more and more. I got a call yesterday from the secretary at the interfaith group.

"Are you interested in going to India?"

"WHAT?"

"Are you interested in going to India?" she asked me.

I never take hallucinagens. I'm sure I was hearing things.

The phone was shaking in my hand. If my boss called for me at that moment, I'd tell him to wait - a scandal at my place to do that.

She continued - "We'd like you to come to India for a few interfaith workshops."

"When?"

"November 1 - 7th"

"Oh my God! That's when my bosses are away! I CAN GOOOOOO!!! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU"

I'm sure she thought I was totally insane. We're visiting the holy sikh city of Amitsrar. I couldn't believe my ears. Sikhs. The Chassidim of India. Last year when in Barcelona I met up with the Sikhs who were hosting us for meals. They had a replica of the Golden Temple there. I sighed and told them how beautiful it looked. I felt a pull and wanted to go there to see the place - after Dharamsala of course, which was my first choice.

Looking on a map, I see it's not far from Dharamsala. I hope I can make a trip over there to see the Buddhist city and maybe even meet the Dalai Lama, as my nephew just did recently.

"Shalom Aleichem, Aleichem shalom" said the Dalai Lama to my nephew. My nephew thought he was at a Chabad house (the "open house" of Lubavitch Chassidim), the man was so warm and friendly.

I told some friends about it and said a trip to India had been on my written wish list for a year now, as was a car and a house.

"I better get a wish list going" said a good friend of mine.

"Yes, you'd better. There's no limit what God can do for you. I already have a house and car on that list. Let's see what happens, although I had no idea this trip was ever going to happen."

I told Hubby about the good news and he thought it was the miracle of the Debtor's Anonymous group, where many members experience miracles upon working the program. We had a Pressure Relief meeting the night before when someone who was in a financial crisis called us to brainstorm with them. They were an hour late, which disturbed me plenty, but we had the meeting and Hubby helped them out more than I could have.

He complained to me this morning -

"You got the miracle and all I got was a friggin' bad headache."

Ain't God grand.

Bless me.

I didn't sneeze or anything. I just need to be blessed. I have a weird nesting urge these days. A need to buy property here. A permanent place I can call home. A place where no one will chide me for throwing out money because I'm renting. I've lived here for 10 years and been married for 20. We've never owned our own home. I need a place where I can rip up the floors and kitchens and disgusting bathrooms and make them shiny and new. Or at least Hubby can make them shiny and new. He's good at that. I'm just good at clothes shopping. So bless me so I can buy a home in the Holy Land.....

thanks!

I'm a real bitch

I've made it to the Bitch's club. I'm happy. Scroll down my sidebar and you'll see what I mean.

He asked me if they were lesbian bitches. I'm sure he's waiting for me to give him their website.

"No, they're just bitches."

"Young bitches?"

"No, just all kinds of bitches."

"What does that make you?"

"Just a plain 'ol bitch"

I taught I saw a puddy cat

My Son and I were walking home from the mall a few days ago and this little kitty followed us home after not letting us walk because she was constantly getting in the way by being an ardent leg rubber. We decided to be her foster-family until she wrecks a good piece of furniture or Hubby decides to put her back in the park.

We're having trouble figuring out whether she is Palestinian or Israeli. Whaddya think?



Palestinian?

or



Jewish Israeli princess?

Free Concert in the Park

Usually in normal places like New York, a free concert in the park, like Central Park for instance, is frequent and there doesn't seem to be a disruption of life around the concert area for hours before and hours afterwards. But not here. Oh no. Not in Israel.

I got an invitation as a holder of an Isracard charge card for a free concert in Park HaYarkon in Tel Aviv. The artists performing are well known Israeli musicians - Idan Raichel, Arkadi Duckhin, Rita, Noa and I thought it would be great practice if ever the Rolling Stones gave a (non-free) concert at that venue where there is room for up to 150,000. I sent away for my 2 tickets and in the end no one was really overly-anxious to go, but for my Good Daughter who wasn't working that night and decided to keep me company. For the occasion, I brought along 2 low sitting beach chairs. It's like you are sitting on the ground, only you have back support. I felt stupid carrying them to work, but my co-workers got a kick out of them and put them in the reception area to try them out for themselves. They are indeed very comfortable even though they look ridiculous in sky blue.

I was working on a project at work and we finished it after meeting for hours on end that week. My boss was so appreciative. Such a Sugar Daddy he is - he asked me where I was going after work and said he, personally, would pay for a taxi to take me there. Sheee-it. Now that's a treat because I was kinda dreading shlepping my plastic chairs all over Jerusalem to get to the bus to Tel Aviv and then from bus to taxi in Tel Aviv. It just all seemed so hassle-free. Weeeeee! My Good Daughter was thrilled at the news and we celebrated by having a quick dinner out beforehand because I really didn't want to munch on cotton candy for dinner at the venue. My Eldest Daughter and Hubby heard that I got a free taxi ride there and I think they were kind of jealous that I had it "easy" this time.

The taxi came for us at 6:45 and we got inside like the two princesses that we are. As the taxi hit the airport area before Tel Aviv, there was lots of traffic. The driver told us it's always like this because people work in Tel Aviv until 7:00 pm.

"But this is going 'into' Tel Aviv, not out of Tel Aviv. What is going on?"

There were two things I was grateful for that evening. That Galgalatz, the radio station he had on, played kick-ass music and that I wasn't paying for this taxi and that he did not have it on the meter because from that point on the ride that should have taken us another 20 minutes turned out to be another 2 1/2 hours. That's right. Welcome to New York highways! Don't I miss the Major Deegan H'way? I hadn't been stuck in this type of traffic jam in decades.

My cab driver showed a great deal of restraint and I didn't hear one curse word in any language come forth from his lips. He did rest his head on his arms as if he had the biggest migraine in the world, but that was the only tell-tale sign that he was frustrated. Meanwhile as we got closer to the gig (which was the reason for the traffic jam), people rolled down their windows and teased the driver mercilessly.

"HHHHHAAAA!! You are coming from Jerusalem? Did you just spend three hours driving here? You can get in front of me"

"Hey! This is 3 hours salary for you. Aren't you thrilled?"

We made the last 45 minutes of the show but couldn't see the people on the giant stage. We were happy to plop down our beach chairs on the ground and look at the big screen.

After the venue it took us about 45 minutes to get a taxi to the Central Bus station (we were minutes away from being stranded in Tel Aviv) where we got on the last shared-taxi service to Jerusalem for the night. And I vowed never to go near any concert at Yarkon Park ever again, with the exception being the Rolling Stones....

Kawasaki Bikers

I was talking with my co-worker today who was telling me that her boyfriend loves her belly. He loves to squeeze it and mush it. Geez. What's with these guys? Hubby likes to squeeze my stomach too. I don't like it at all. Makes me feel like a freak. I mean does he think or pretend it's a breast or something?? It would be a damn good size breast if it were one. But it ain't.

Talking about freaks, I was by my biker hairdresser the other day. I had to sift my way through two giant Kawasaki bikes in order to get to the door of the place. I sit down in the chair and he starts talking about the "toys" he sells to Hubby.

"It's no good if you have it on for 5 minutes. You need 15 minutes. I can get you whatever you want!"

Whatever happened to gossipy hairdressers?

"Do you have a catalog or something?" I asked

"No, but it depends on what you like."

"Look sweetie, I don't know what's out there. Really. I just talk to my friends - some of them anyway - and the 'rings' are what's in. I don't know about anything else."

"I can get you something ...." and he droned on very explicitly about what Hubby has to do to me and positions, etc.

Luckily, Hubby walked in to get his own hair cut, and had my dinner from Burgers Bar waiting.

"Thank God you're here. This guy won't talk to me about hair conditioner or hair masks. It's all your fault. You give him that 'other' business."

I go back into the chair waiting for him to put streaks in my hair.

"Did you hear about the lollipop?" biker hairdresser asks me.

"WHAT COLOR EXACTLY ARE YOU PUTTING INTO MY HAIR. BRIGHT RED? BLUE? GREEN?"

I didn't want lollipop colours in my hair. I should have known. He wasn't talking about hair color at all, it turns out.

This guy gives me great cuts and I must put up with his sex toy banter. Fortunately, he had to leave and gave me over to his hippie brother to blow dry my hair. Israelis call it "getting a fan". He asked me how you say it in English.

"You call it blow fluff?" he asked me.

I was going to tease him and tell him - you call it a "blow job" because he won't know the difference and it'll amuse his English speaking customers, but I was kind and told him the truth.

"Ahh Sinai." He said wistfully. He had just come back from Israeli hippie paradise over there. And we both recognized what paradise really is.

Is this mystical or what?

Part of yesterday's potluck brought me in touch with many peace workers I knew. One of the guests staying at Ibrahim's was there - this young English man. I wondered why he came here, thinking Jerusalem's pubs were much more to his liking. But I discovered another person inside those street musician's clothes. He had taken a strong liking to the UK girl who he met at Ibrahim's - to the point where even I caught a strong vibe between them. And it wasn't only me, it seemed that everyone noticed it too. But she left on Wednesday and he seemed very alone and very vulnerable.

"She was so lovable to me" he admitted. She didn't reciprocate his attentions though and I think it made him a bit sad.

During dinner, while we were sharing about ourselves, the person next to him told a story.

"I'm a psychotherapist. This girl complained to me about not being loved, but she did have someone who loved her dearly. She just couldn't see it so she thought she was unloved. And with this we can also thnk that God doesn't love us, when in fact He does and it is just so powerful - but many people can't sense it and can't feel it."

I was sitting there thinking this is the story of UK Man and UK Girl too - isn't it? She had written me previously saying she had come to Israel looking for God, and he was searching as well - he said he had Jewish ancestors. And so they ended up finding each other. Perhaps that is the reason they were both here? Because God is inside most relationships (except mine, of course). Maybe they both don't realize this yet, but it seems like a good story, that can become real, or can just fizzle.

UK Man shared his story about how he thought the end of the world and redemption would be here 6 years ago. And there is so much divine music that he hears but everyone in the UK always disses it. So now he thinks the world is going to hell. And then he wept bitter tears. But instead of everyone thinking he's next in line for the loony bin, everyone there recognized his tears were real, deep and because he was in spiritual pain. It's rare to find someone who shares spiritual pain so intensely in public.

People tried to console him - one woman said that there are 36 righteous people in every generation which enables the world to exist. Others told stories of King David and the Prophet Elijah who complained that God is hiding from him. Even the Biblical leaders had spiritual pain - which was recorded for all eternity.

But I figured the tears could have been a real mixture of spiritual pain and the plain modern fact that he was missing his UK girl.

A Magical Friday Night

I had been invited for months know to Rabbi Ruth and Michael Kagan's monthly Interfaith potluck dinner and Shabbat services on Friday night. This week I resolved to finally get going. There was so much traffic at the checkpoint into Jerusalem I left especially early and got there 1/2 hour early - quiche in hand. On the way I met a group of people dressed in white monks clothing and nuns in white. Of course, they were going to the Kagans - where else? I joined up with them and introduced myself. Some were French, some were Mexican. All were quite young and lived at the Emmaus Monastary near Latrun. They were part of the Beatitude order, if I understood that correctly. We prepared to light Shabbat candles and the main candle was passed from person to person until everyone lit - nuns and monks included, which I thought was beautiful and amusing at the same time.

Shabbat prayers began and our small group grew to over 50 people. We chanted, we sang, we prayed and even the nun next to me stood praying the Silent Prayer from an Artscroll prayerbook as if she had done this all her life. This is the month of Elul and God is not hiding from us this month. He really hears us and we were instructed to pray - not only for ourselves but for the others as well, such as the people from Louisiana, because the government, as we see, doesn't always get the job done, which is where people's prayers can finish the job. It all seemed to make sense.

We all sat around for the meal, which really felt abundant - someone even made sushi which was gobbled up by all the small kids. I felt like telling them - Hey! kids aren't supposed to like that stuff -leave it all for me! I let them take their 3 pieces while I took 2.

There were people I knew from my peace work and while stories were being shared of personal spiritual experiences interspersed with the nuns and monks singing Psalms in French accompanied by violin and acoustic guitar. It was so beautiful, I didn't want the evening to end. It actually didn't - because by 10:30 pm it was still going strong but my eyes weren't. I left the crowd without saying bye to anyone and crept out the door walking through Jerusalem's streets, seeing and feeling both the holiness of the Sabbath and the beauty of the secular enjoying themselves in Jerusalem's busy pubs, glasses tinkering away....

I love being wined and dined

Even if it's only my daughter taking me out. It's a special treat. She makes a ton of money on tips each day, and spends it on herself. I think her grandmother wrote her a letter after I complained that she is already 21 and doesn't contribute anything to the house except for dirty laundry. We asked her to pay $100 a month. A pittance. She was furious with us and said none of her friends have to pay rent to their parents. $100 isn't rent. It's fuck all. If she were really to rent, she would have to pay $400 for a dive in Jerusalem plus utilities. So I'm sure grandma gave her a telling off - kindly - the way grandmothers do to their favorite grandchildren.

So she called me and asked if I'd like to be taken out for dinner. Being somewhat still sane, and of no guilt feelings taking gifts from my children, I agreed. We had dinner at the new upscale restaurant in the shuk - called Tzachko. She offered me dessert as well, and I slurped up the lemon/mint sorbet and watermelon sorbet on fresh fruits. We parted ways after dinner.

A few hours later she showed up at home with a purple top as a gift for me "because you don't have any purple tops." I don't have any red, white or orange tops either!
If she's going to treat me to weekly dinners and tops - the hell with the rent.

Jewish Meditation and Imagery

I decided to go to this Jewish Meditation thing happening at the Haas Promenade - as the ad sounded nice "Healing after Disengagement: It doesn't matter if you're blue or orange.....religious or secular". This was part of a Meorot/Yakar happening. There were about 12 workshop presenters there and perhaps 10 participants - Reiki, Drama, Acupressure, Art therapy, deep listening or compassionate listening, and Imagery. I went for the Imagery workshop because Tirza - she pronunces her name "Teerzzza" - sounded interested. She does guided imagery which is to be able to get you to wherever it is you want to go. I was totally intrigued. Of course, after she guided us in her imagery, I had the most vivid imagination there. She asked us what we wanted. I said "freedom". She gave us an exercise and at the end we were to imagine ourselves taking a shower bathed in light. I told her I couldn't see my body as I showered only the light. "There! You had your freedom!" She reminded me of the Wizard of Oz at that point - "You wanted a heart, here's your heart!" I became a vase filled with blue light and journeyed to the beginning of time. But the chill in the Jerusalem early evening air made me shiver in the real world.

A storyteller told us that when one dreams of Ishmael, good things happen. This caused one of the "orange" women to look at her friend and remark - within my earshot of course - "she's saying that the father of the Arabs will bring us good luck???" I told her she "could" rephrase that to say - the son of Abraham, which he was and which was probably the reason for bringing in good luck...

Well I've never dreamt of Ishmael, but we did get guided imagery to walk with King David in silence and I imagined him much like Thich Nhat Hanh, the Vietnamese Buddhist monk....

Selinas

We walked into one of Jerusalem's newest restaurants Thursday night - Selinas on Emek Refaim. I sauntered in with my Good Daughter, who looked ravishing that night, while Hubby was getting a parking space. The dreadlocked waiter greeted us at the door, grabbed my arm and walked us to our table. But I preferred the leather couches and lower tables. My wish was his command. The waiter leaned over me and asked what I'd like to order.

"No potatoes, no rice, no pasta. I'm on a diet."

His eyebrows raised.

"Huh. You don't need to be on a diet."

That guy wants a big tip. Meanwhile Hubby joins us and makes friends with the waiter, even giving him his number at the end of the meal,which was fabulous by the way - the juiciest, softest, tastiest entrecote steak I had ever eaten - better than that expensive filet mignon I had at the King David Hotel. The fish I ordered - drumfish - also one of the best. The service was quick and the waiter hilarious.

There was something spiritually spooky in that place. I had just spoken about someone to my family and that person called me on the phone the second that happened. Then we talked about desserts and just then the waiter came over and told us we have dessert on the house. What a roll we're on. I said let's go and talk about winning a lottery and buy a friggin' ticket - maybe we'll have some luck...

On the way back, Hubby asks me -

"Did you get a load of that waiter doing somersaults with his serving tray?"

"Yeah, amazing!"

"And he sat so close to me I thought he was gonna take a bite of my steak. I even asked him - 'do you wanna piece?'"

"But he gave us free dessert!"

"He told me he wanted to ask our daughter out. But I told him he's not her type. He asked me why. I said 'it's your hair'"

We're back to the sixties aren't we now? Poor guy. Who was it that said - Never trust anyone over 30.

Wasps

Hubby proved his usefulness today by exterminating a wasp that came into the kitchen today.

"Where is it" I asked, because if the wasp wasn't going to be dealt with immediately, I was never going to go into the kitchen, and no dishes would be washed and no meals would be made. The agony of it all made Hubby all the more earnest to do me this favor and murder the bee or the wasp or whatever the fuck it was.

I looked in the sink.

"I see its antennas moving" and backed out of the kitchen.

"There. I squished it and tossed it into the trash."

Whew. Now our family can eat.

First Day of School in Jerusalem

I took the day off today to get all sorts of stuff sorted out - the boring and the exciting stuff - like perhaps having lunch/light dinner out, perhaps buying some new trousers because my others are large on me. Finally.

Hubby and I were supposed to celebrate our final debt repayment to debtor's court - after which we closed up our files with them. No more will they threaten to jail Hubby or take our furniture or close up my bank account - which they did and unfortunately, they are quite slow in getting that part sorted out via their computers. But I wanted to forget about it all and celebrate by taking a cheap 3 night cruise to Rhodes and Limassol on the Princess as Hubby, until now, was not allowed to leave the country due to this debt. But he was free - finally - and I thought he'd want to scram.

He said he was too busy at work and I was terribly disappointed - what is the big deal of taking a Thursday and a Sunday off?

Is it perhaps that there are no computers on board the Princess and he won't be able to peruse his favorite sites. I had time today, on my day off, to check out which websites he does peruse. Some of them are - and if you are sensitive to bad words - read no more:

1. Don't spit swallow
2. hairy places
3. horny teen harlots
4. big mouthfuls
5. cumswallowblog
6. lesbians playroom
7. dirtytravel
8. creamy pies
9. cunt circus
10. anal sex lessons (?)
11. cum squirt
12. eating pussy in high class escort service
13. Christian gays (?)
14. circumcised boyfriend Indian (?)
15. kinky mature sluts
16. sexabulous
17. smutfun

and there are loads more. Really. But I don't have the patience to print them all.

Hoping my son will not inherit his dad's love for porn, I gently woke him up for school - a new school where the teachers don't seem to have a stick up their ass and he won't be judged on how religious he is because the school is secular. His teacher is American and I was so pleased about that. At least she will understand our family better than Israeli teachers. Plus there was a Japanese kid in his class, whom my son immediately took a liking to - I see he gets his pull towards "different" people from me. I'm glad. It's better than being pulled to porn.