Chapter 13: Actor Again, the Ketogenic Diet and the Failed Audition

After the Negev, I decided to return to the center. But not just to the center, but to the roots. If you have to fall, then in Portuguese. It sounds sexier when you crash.

Meet Arik. Ramat Gan (which is almost Tel Aviv, if you close one eye and ignore the humidity). On paper? Bingo. Jackpot. Carnival in Rio. The man is an actor. And not an "amateur" like Yossi from the Negev looking for Twiggy at the community center, but an actor-actor. Appearing. But the real scoundrel? He is Brazilian. That is, the son of Brazilian parents, lived in Brazil in the past (exactly at the time I was there! A historic miss!), speaks the language. My heart, which beats to the rhythm of the samba even when I eat gefilte fish, missed a beat. Finally someone who will understand my soul without me having to translate.

Act One: The Phone Call and the Audition

The phone call was promising. He sounded intelligent, a man of the world. A former officer who converted to acting at age 50 (a classic midlife crisis, but at least something creative came out of it and not a T-MAX motorcycle). But even then, something was grating. He was whining. He told me with the dramatic fatigue of a tormented actor:

Act Two: The Ketogenic Date

We met. He arrived. He looked good. "The look of a kibbutznik," as Dekala diagnosed from the photos. Good eyes, a winning smile. A huge belly. It was a pleasant evening. We flowed. We had a lot in common, but then came the culinary minefield: he is ketogenic. For those who don't know, a ketogenic diet means you live on air, fat and prayers. No carbs. No sugar. No bread. No pasta. No basic joy in life. How can you be Brazilian without eating

Act Three: Jazz, Flamenco, and a Bucket of Ice Water

Friday afternoon. I went with my best friend to a jazz concert in Herzliya. An electrifying performance. The audience (mostly elderly, but elderly with rhythm!) was ecstatic. I felt elated. I remembered Eric. I took a video of the concert. A video full of life, passion, color. I sent him an excited message that evening: "Perfect performance 💃🏽🩵"

I waited for an enthusiastic response. I waited for a conversation about rhythms, about emotion, about art. What did I get? Four words. Dry as a ketogenic cracker: "What fun! Shabbat Shalom."

Boom. That's it. No "Where is this?", no "Wow, looks amazing," no "When are we going together?". "Shabbat Shalom." The period at the end of the sentence was like a nail in the coffin of this relationship. It was so boring, so dry, so... polite and cold.

The Postmortem (or: Back to the Ex)

At that moment, the chip fell. He's not really here. In our conversations, he said that he broke up with his partner only a month ago, after years of being together. He went on a Dawin trip. He came to the app to do a "V" (or "Ebu Ali" as I call it), check if he's still relevant in the market, get some strokes to his wounded ego, and then... go home.

He wasn't looking for a relationship. He was looking for a band-aid. And me? With all my joy and depth – I was just a refreshment stop on the way back to somewhere. The dryness in his response wasn't because he didn't like the video. It was because he was already a foot and a half (and a whole heart) back to her. I wrote to Dikla:

End of the matter

I didn't respond to his "Shabbat Shalom." I didn't go to his play. He's in the theater of his life, and I'm the theater of my life. He may be a talented actor, but he played the role of "potential partner" very poorly. A supporting actor who entered the stage, said one unconvincing line, and came out the other side.

So what did we learn?

1. When a man says he's "sick of auditions" - he means he's tired of putting in the effort, and he wants the reward without the work.

2. When someone breaks up with a decade-long relationship a month ago - you're not the next thing, you're the rebound.

3. Ketogenic diet is suspicious. People who don't eat carbs are sad people. Period.

Next.

Chapter 13: Actor Again, the Ketogenic Diet and the Failed Audition