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Remember the earthquake off the shore of San Francisco? It was a 7.1. We’ve had several since. You’d think by now, after almost 12 years of living in Los Angeles that I would be used to the idea of earthquakes. Not so. It’s not actually the earthquake that is scary, but the aftershocks. As Californians, we try and prepare as best as we can by having the right things in our house, God forbid there was an emergency. Ask anyone who lived through 9/11 in New York (me included in the pack) and see how easy it is to try to live with fear of the unknown. We that live in Los Angeles take precautions.

We make a phone call to State farm and buy some homeowners insurance. We have a limitless supply of water, batteries, flashlights, canned foods, condoms (can’t we have fun too?) and blankets stored in our house so there is a feeling of safety. Just because you are taking precautions, that doesn’t mean it has to dictate your life. The fear of where the earthquake might originate doesn’t stop anyone who wants to live by the beach or live on top of a mountain anyway. There are obviously much greater risks of damage in these areas, but they take their chances anyway. I say, more power to them, just buy the insurance! Hey, we’re only here once, follow your heart.

Wouldn’t it be great if you could take out emotional insurance when you fall in love with someone? The person responsible for hurting you would have to pay for the damages. What a great concept huh? I was thinking about this recently and realized that aftershocks happen not only as the result of earthquakes, but also emotional trauma as well. Earthquakes are like divorces. For a long time after the fact, those in the middle of it all live with lots of aftershocks.

The similarities between earthquakes and marriages:

We are not sure when they are going to happen, or how long they are going to last. Who knows what the damage will end up being when it is all over? They could both hit you like a ton of bricks, and can cause both mental and emotional trauma. People get hurt unintentionally. It can happen to all of us, there are no special groups that have any special privileges; God treats us all the same.

So what is it about the aftershocks that are so much more frightening than the actual earthquake? The earthquake usually lasts the longest and for the first few moments everyone is in a state of shock until it wears off and you begin to settle in to what has happened.

The aftershocks are a different story.

Just when you think it is over, they catch you off guard. There are generally only a few of them but they are very short and very powerful. The aftershocks are scary because you’re not sure if it is the beginning of another big earthquake, or just a tremor off the last big one.

Earthquakes and divorces can be so similar.

Seeing your x-spouse with another woman or man (ouch!); the surprise can cause the blood pressure to rise, giving one a sense of a sudden heart attack. The devastation. It is only after an earthquake that you can see the damage it has done. As with emotional aftershocks, there can be post-traumatic feelings that catch up with you and can stay long after that “initial” incident. The Damage. As your spouse collects his things and you choose to give them “the crap” you don’t want to see again, once they are gone for good, you look around and see the demise of the marriage and the emptiness of the house. Perhaps the damage was so great in the earthquake you had to move. You had to find a new home and start again. So too in a divorce. If your wonderful x-Romeo/Juliet claims poverty, you are forced to move to a new location.

Once everything is unpacked you take a look around and wonder to yourself, what just happened to my life?

The emotions. Once an earthquake is over it can leave people feeling very uneasy about living in California. Some pack their suitcases and run for the border. Others decide to move to another part of town where there are less “fault lines.”

With a divorce, people (mostly women) run for the hills when it comes to relationships. Others decide to run to other people to soothe themselves and numb the pain. Others move out of town, change their name, their address and start anew. And then there are people who just act as if nothing happened. Or there are women like me, who know that those aftershocks are out there somewhere and we make some conscious choices to be prepared for the next one.

I won’t move out of fear, but I sometimes don’t seem to be smart enough to know not to live in a glass house on a fault line.

Nevertheless, I will keep breathing and watch carefully. When the air gets very still and the sun is shining brightly- I will wait for what will happen next.

I looked into his crystal blue eyes after a dozen years of waking up next to him and it was suddenly over. Two signatures on a dotted line and it felt like it never happened. All the plans, the dreams, and the fantasies of what my life would look like with this Gorgeous Latvian goyim, was finally over. Everyone had their own opinion about the outcome of a marriage between a Jewish American Princess from New York and a Baltic immigrant solider. I guess we were fascinated by each other for all the wrong reasons and convinced ourselves they were the right ones. It truly was a modern day romance of The Way We Were except I can’t carry a note to save my life and he was a Jack of all trades, master of none.After finalizing the end of my seven year marriage to my hunky goyim moron, enough mourning time had passed that I decided it was time to get back to my roots and hit the synagogue for the high holidays. What better way to do that then to go to a Friday night Kol Nidre service with a guy from Jdate who I’d never met before. To some people, this move may have looked foolish and others a leap of faith. To me, I can honestly admit I have no idea what I was thinking except a short spell of insanity. I joined Jdate a little over a year ago with the intention of meeting a tall, charming, funny, sensitive Jewish man that I have dreamed about all my life. I have heard countless stories of people who met “someone really special” and got married from the Jdate site. It is very easy to get burned out with the online dating scene and I have stopped and restarted the membership a dozen times.For the most part I found the first year of this new life to be liberating, titillating and depressing all wrapped in one lovely package. I posted recent pictures of myself that were not deceiving in any way and wrote an honest profile of who I am in the world. Perusing pictures and reading profiles of these random “Jewish” men and meeting them in person became very draining. Being a divorced mother of two children who are under five years of age doesn’t give me the ability to have the grandest social life imaginable, so Jdate is like going grocery shopping for a new boyfriend. I am trying to find that perfect piece of premium cut beef, at a good price that hasn’t been on the shelf too long.

I was ready, willing and open to meeting someone and the Jewish holidays were right around the corner. Throughout the process, I’ve stayed honest with myself as well as the men I have dated. Maybe a sip of Maneshewitz and a prayer Mr. Right would walk himself right into Shul. I have made a few great platonic friends that give me a chance to get the man’s point of view and also help them to see ours without ever feeling like sex can threaten it. They are extraordinary guys, mostly divorced fathers, who like me, had their marriage fall apart and are left to pick up the pieces. These men give me hope that a caring, loving man is out there looking for me, he just doesn’t know my phone number yet.

So upon this first Yom Kippur date, I had spoken to the Jdate guy, who I will call Matt. I spoke with Matt a bunch of times on the phone before the actual date. He sounded like a nice guy who was bright, hard-working and ready to meet his Ms. Right. His photo was not posted on his Jdate profile and as a general rule that I have found for myself, if there is no picture posted, the guy is either very hot or very not. He wasn’t a sexy bad boy type. He was in a suit with a tie- the very conservative type. I had hoped that the picture didn’t portray the exact replica of his physical appearance, because there are some people who actually look better in person. I had hoped this would be the case. Based on the photograph I could tell that this was not going to be a love connection but trying to stay open-minded I shut off those tapes and made myself look pretty.

He picked me up in his Mercedes Benz loaner, as his Lexus was in the shop, and was dressed exactly like the photograph. As I got into the car he had this big smile that crossed his face. I wish that I felt the same way but I was not a good actress so I did my best not to look disappointed. The restaurant was only a few blocks from my house so lucky for me; there wasn’t a ton of car talk that was needed. We went to an Italian restaurant in my neighborhood that was very crowded with people. It was a group which was filled with mostly non-Jewish folk as all the good Jews were at home eating the customary formal dinner the night before Yom Kippur. I had the guilt of a bad Jew which started making me feel that I had to be in Synagogue all weekend to erase the beginning of some bad karma ahead. We sat down and ordered wine with dinner and it was pleasant experience. I asked him all the questions, not giving him much room to ask me any, so I did not have to talk about myself and any details of my life I didn’t want to expose. I certainly didn’t suffer through the meal but, the idea of kissing him and anything else of that nature did not cross my mind, no matter how many glasses of Cabernet I consumed. While he paid the check, I excused myself and went to the ladies’ room where I called my girlfriend to tell her all the glorious details of this date. My best friend gave me her encouraging words of wisdom and told me how proud she was of me going in the first place. Knowing her she would have excused herself to the bathroom and escaped through the emergency door, good for me is right. We left the restaurant and drove to the Synagogue for the Arts held their services.

My girlfriends’ mother is a big wig there so she gave me her tickets which were in fact right behind her parents. They smiled as I said hello and she looked at both of us trying to figure out the nature of our relationship. I wanted to blurt out ‘non-sexual’ don’t even go there, but didn’t think it was appropriate before the arc to the Torah was opened. The service was beautiful and I forgot we were even in a high school auditorium. As typical as Hollywood gets, the Cantor was a former cast member of Le Miserables, so the Hebrew he belted out was pretty spectacular. Matt and I shared a prayer book which was cozy and if the truth be told, it was a very warm feeling I had being with a Jewish guy on the holiday. When I was married to my goy, I dragged him to Synagogue a few times and he stuck out like a sore thumb. Somehow when you coerce someone to do something, it doesn’t feel good.

I am a very spiritual woman, so I was very touched by the English translation of the prayers. When I moved his hand so I could read the words, I think for a quick second he thought I was grabbing him in an intimate moment. I smiled and shook my head as if to say, buddy you got the wrong idea. The service lasted almost three hours and it felt good to be back with my people.

According to my friend Gabe who wrote the book “The Guide to Picking up Girls” we were on a date that could have counted for two (one date can run between 1-2 hours). In his book this translates that after a total of four dates I was “allowed” to have sex with him. Doggie style right? Not with me baby. He drove me home which took all of three minutes since I lived right around the corner from the Synagogue. In those three minutes I knew I couldn’t give him a long and passionate kiss goodnight simply because I just didn’t feel it. We pulled up my house and he turned off the ignition. This could potentially be the worst moment in life when that anticipated kiss is not wanted. I thanked him for dinner and we quickly chatted about nothing. Then, I gave him a hug and a quick peck on the lips as my hand latched onto the door and I flew out. As the door was shutting he asked me if I was practicing to become the next wonder woman. I smiled and knew that I was never going to see him again. Sharing a religious moment with someone I don’t know was not a great idea but, I could understand the future turn on when I was with someone I cared about. The upside is I found myself a new Synagogue and place to worship for the upcoming holidays. The best part of the date was being reminded of something I knew, which was how good it felt to be in temple with a Jewish guy standing next to me.