Faith no more

For some weeks now I've been trying to find some solace. So I have started to go back to the synagogue (not a move my pork-eating, football-loving friends particularly appreciate. And they aren't afraid to tell me).

Yes. Nothing wrong with your reading. Fridays have become a no booze-zone and Saturdays have been devoted to Shabbat services. One morning afterfwards I went with my friend to shop for organic vegan food. You know, because it's kosher. And I actually enjoyed it. No, still nothing wrong with your reading.

Not so many years ago I used to have my name on the list at all the most fabulous parties, my double D-cup overflowing with free booze. Now it's been replaced by having my name  at the door of a synagogue, where I study Bible in a language I still, much to the dismay of the scholarship officials at the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs (and myself), can't really even follow.

My friend treats the service as a window shopping for my next (and inevitably Jewish) boyfriend. And I have to say, from the balcony where we sit (it's an Orthodox synagogue so men and women are separated) we have a pretty good view. Though there, too, is a chronic shortage of eligible men over 17 and under 71.

But the biggest shock, my dear readers, is yet to come. I've noticed I thoroughly enjoy the sight of men attending the service with their kids. Yes. No booze, God-bothering, vegan food and kids. After a sermon a couple of weeks back about how holy and  important having children is I actually found myself wondering if there's a chance I might be willing to change my mind after all.

The ironic thing is that at least I have a choice. Which is so much more than can be said about so many people I know. I have friends who want kids more than anything; people I love and people who I know would make terrific parents. Yet, the cruel hand life's poker has dealt them means they, for a variety of physical reasons, can't have them.

Adding more people into this relationship doesn't, of course, fit too well with my plans for happily ever after with The Man (and anyway, there are already 3 people in this relationship: me, him and his mummy dearest...)

Now that the Happy End (or Final Solution- all in the eye of the beholder) is closer than ever, am I really going all out to sabotage it? Is this just jitters? Or... have I actually already moved on?