The outbreak of the war changed the dating reality for many Israelis. The enormity of the tragedy and the collective need to rejuvenate and unite, all combined to shape a mindset that had many rethink their approach.
For many, the continued state of war had them entertain several questions. Should they text an ex or the last guy and check on their well-being? After all, the law of the single world says "You don't text him even during a war," but there's no one who doesn't know someone who was called up, wounded, or killed. How can you know what's right and what's not? If you talk to that guy, you briefed each other on what's new, and now what? How do you express virtual empathy on such a painful topic? Is that a reason to suggest meeting up? How do you develop a "what's up" conversation when everything around is bad? And the weirdest thing is – how do you flirt during war?! You can't switch conversation topics because they could be irrelevant, inconsiderate, or not interesting enough.
And when exhausting the world of apps, which is very lonely in itself, they try to go back to meeting people in real life. Is it ok to talk about it with someone not in your relationship status? Who allows you to complain when you're alone during days when the country is at war?
What if you meet a new guy during the war? Where do you go out on a date? Back to COVID days, the safe option is home and it seems you have no way to avoid it as long as your mutual hobby is running to shelters. And what if he is called up to serve and won't be able to go on more dates?
A winter of sirens across the country is quite a challenge. "I started searching for a partner in the third week of the war," Inbar Bar-Yehuda, a 36-year-old single woman from Rishon LeZion, tells Israel Hayom. " "The biggest thing that changed is that I had this fear of realizing that the person I was chatting with one day on the app could then show up on the front page as one of the KIAs in the war the next day," says Inbar, adding, "or I could end up in a weird situation where you're talking to someone nice but he's in the reserves, and the communication isn't continuous or is interrupted."
This situation, she says, led to an attempt to initiate sexting or hookups at home. "I went on a few dates with a guy who said 'I don't go into a shelter when there are sirens' and that the war is a conspiracy."
Q: How does a new acquaintance begin during wartime?
"When I returned to the apps, unlike regular get-to-know-you conversations that start with 'interview' questions, there was a feeling that you need to apologize for being there. To the question 'What's up?' you answer 'Okay, as much as possible.' With the absolute knowledge that I'm here because that's what you need to do to meet someone." The reliance on the other side's credibility also became more significant. "People sometimes fail to respond because they could be in combat, or God forbid were killed; sometimes they say they are serving but are in fact lying, and in some cases they just ghost me. There was someone I moved to chatting with on WhatsApp and then disappeared. If this was regular times I would assume he's a douchebag, but here it's like 'wait, if he was injured or killed and I don't know.'"
"In the early days of the war there was a discourse of 'where were you on 10/7, what did you do,' and if you know someone who was hurt," she shares. "Since I was a friend of someone who got killed while trying to save people at the Nova party, my conversation was about him and how much I appreciated him and how amazing he was. These conversations are somewhat dark, but that is the daily reality. There were also conversations about politics and it felt like wartime dictated the topics of conversation. The dates didn't progress for many reasons, not necessarily because of those reasons. There was also the fear of leaving the house and getting stuck during sirens. Usually, you'd go to the beach or pubs, and if there was a siren at 6 and the date at 8 I'd cancel. A date is already a stressful situation, and the fear of a missile attack is an additional element causing anxiety."
Q: Do men feel this way too?
"There were those who were resigned to this situation and we set a location with a shelter, and those who were jerks remained jerks regardless of the war. There are those who try to exploit the situation and that desire and tend to try to initiate hookups. There was a vibe of 'come on, let's take advantage of the war to try and hook up.'"
Q: It sounds like there were expectations, but reality clashed
"Even when I went back to dating it wasn't with a sense of expectation but rather loneliness, and this is the tool I am familiar with in order to get into a relationship. I really want that, but I don't have an expectation that the knight in shining armor will come."
Inbar says that despite the supportive environment, the war amplified the sense of loneliness. "At the end of the day, there's that moment, especially when you go to bed alone and no one hugs you or says good morning or goodnight. The war amplified that sense of loneliness and the other fears." And yet, Inbar chooses to emphasize that the word "loneliness" is not accurate: "I'm happy with myself, and in the place where I prefer to be alone rather than in a bad relationship. I don't feel lonely – I'm alone."
"At least you don't have anyone to worry about"
"Coping with the personal during days of national mourning that dragged on changes everything," continues Dana Guez, a 32-year-old single woman from Tel Aviv, painting the contours of the phenomenon. "There was a guy who shared more about what he was doing in the army, and told me that a vehicle he was in was hit but luckily no one was injured. The discourse became 'Okay, take care of yourself.'"
"I was the reservist's way to escape his troubles, we talked more about me in order not to deal with what was happening to him. In contrast, the conversation with men who weren't in the reserves was longer than usual in the virtual dimension, because there was no desire to go out at the start of the war."
Q: How does a virtual acquaintance with a reservist unfold?
"The amount of pictures of men in uniform on the apps has shot up in the wake of the war and those who wrote they were 'in the reserves,' and in my eyes there's something about that that adds to the man's value," Dana shares about the initial differences in the dating profile beyond the screen in the reality after Oct. 7. "When we started talking he told me he was going in and out of Gaza, and that's pretty worrying. It was annoying that nothing was set so it was impossible to plan for meeting up later. The war excuse was accepted with more understanding. When he disappeared I wondered if he was alive or dead, but as soon as I saw him active on Instagram I immediately understood, and so I told myself 'Okay, let it go.' Maybe it's better not to date reservists."
A sentence Dana heard about being single really grated on her: "'At least you don't have anyone to worry about, no kids or husband in the reserves.' In my view that doesn't make it better, you still feel awful alone. There's no support because there's no one, and if something happens – you're completely alone. For example, for me, it was scary because at home there's no shelter, an unpleasant coping experience."
Q: What happens in real life these days?
"There were connections that resurfaced because of the war," Dana shares, "people who were once part of my life asked how I was doing." She describes conversations that started out of concern because of the security situation but didn't develop into relationships. "It's nice that they're thinking of you, but I think 'What, am I going to fall into that same trap again?'" Dana explains that connections based on sexual relations also took on a different meaning. "I have hookups who were kind of there for me in some way like we just comforted each other. It's like 'just sex,' but sometimes it's a bit more. With those I don't have feelings with, the sense of not being alone is alleviated for a short time."
The "alone" of someone from central Israel is different from that of a heroine from the other parts of the country or the north who was evacuated from her home. The sense of security that was significantly undermined and the daily struggles in relationships, family, children, and friends seem like background noise in the shadow of bereavement and loss of a home. "I lived in mourning and the crying didn't stop for a month and a half because I lost so many friends," shares Chen Rind, a 40-year-old divorced mother of two, born and raised in Gevaram in the Gaza border area. "I wouldn't wish going through a war alone on any woman. The whole situation is new, and you're not even in your own home. You had to build everything from scratch for the kids, while also understanding the tragedy."
The reckoning: Building a relationship during war
The upheaval in Chen and her two children's place of residence, aged 10 and 11, began with the outbreak of war. "We were at an amazing family's place in Kfar Yehezkel for a week, and when we understood the magnitude of the event we moved to Kibbutz Nir David, and I've been here ever since. I lost so many friends, the people who shaped my childhood, everything I know."
Q: When does the desire for a new acquaintance arise?
"After a month and a half I felt really alone," she shares. "Everyone around me was in a relationship and I felt the need not just for a relationship, but to put my head on someone's shoulder, and maybe not to talk about the war or not be in the mourning I was in. I didn't want dates because I didn't intend to get attached to a man." Like Inbar and Dana, Chen also chose a dating app. Following the evacuation from home, the first change in her profile was her address. "Because of the difficulty of me being here with the kids alone and not having free time for myself, many times I just didn't respond. It felt like looking for someone and not looking, I want to but I'm afraid. In the end, I ended up meeting a nice guy who lived not far away. We went on walks and I did things in my free time without the kids. At the time I felt I didn't have the energy for conversation in order to really get to know someone and connect, my heart also wouldn't allow it. He really understood the situation. Unfortunately, the friendship was mainly about war topics, about what I was going through and what his friends experienced, or funerals he attended. In the end, it fizzled out between us."
Q: Did going on dates during wartime add to the difficulty?
"The app pushed me to go out and meet people. I believe that when things are meant to happen – they happen, for good or bad."
Q: How did you cope with the new complexity of dating?
"The kids are at the highest priority level. They're partners on the journey and sometimes understand that mom needs time for herself. In my previous life, I had set days when the dad would take them. In Nir David, we live in a 40-square-meter home and we're always together. I suddenly had to find the time to talk to the guy or respond to messages and everything was a bit harder. The guy needs to be very sensitive in order to understand the situation."
Q: What did you do to keep yourself going, even with the kids?
"I focused on my own strength. If the news brought me to low places, I completely disconnected and didn't let anything bring me down." These days the country is starting to return residents to their homes in areas defined as safe in the Gaza periphery. "I once thought my home was in Gevaram, but I understood that I can build a home as long as my kids are with me, and that's the feeling I created in Nir David. On that Saturday we were left to our own devices, these days remind me that during Operation Protective Edge I was with two babies for a month outside the home.
"In the end, you could say I survived, and I need to remind myself of that. At the same time, the thoughts come up that when you're alone no one will care for you, and it's true that parents care but alone is alone. The organic family, the partner, are especially meaningful during wartime. These days I feel that like me, the evacuees from the Gaza periphery are still processing what happened. Now, with the return home being the next thing to look forward to, I choose for the new chapter in my story to be written with full love and joy, that it will be good."
Shahar Abekasis (Micha Brikman)Shahar Abekasis, a 24-year-old single man from Haifa who was drafted for reserve duty in a combat role with the outbreak of war, believes in the initial spark of a chance encounter and chose not to give up on finding love even during the fighting
"The last relationship was during the war and lasted about a month and a half. In the end, it ended with a phone call that broke my heart," he recounts coping with pressures and difficulties far from home. "When it ended I didn't have my own room to go to, or to unload to my parents. I felt that even in a state of unavailability I made a big effort, but there was no appreciation."
Q: What was it like going on a date with a war going on in the background?
"There was a girl I traveled to Modi'in for because I felt it was special and so I made an effort. I'm looking for a relationship and someone I can give warmth and love to, but it's precisely in those moments that I also met girls who weren't ready for that kind of connection. Instead of coming and lifting me up, they chose to distance themselves. It's also clear that something psychological is happening to me in terms of the army, and not every girl can contain that."
Shahar shares what it's like to be a reservist looking for love in a protracted war: "More than the duration of the campaign, the lack of certainty is killing. Two months after everything started, the dating topic came up more for me. I want to build a home, to give warmth and love to someone who is right for me."
Q: How does a relationship start when you're drafted for the war effort?
"At first my exes were concerned for me, they were there for me and called. She's from Netivot and I was very worried about her too, and I sent messages to see if everything was okay. It gave me a lot of strength, and every conversation was also a kind of venting."
Alongside the internal storm, he recounts being surrounded by amazing people in the reserves. "I disconnected from the whole world and suddenly went back to the army after three years. It's a huge punch in the gut."
Q: Tell me about your last relationship
"I was at an afterparty and saw her in a store. I didn't know how to approach her and I was really excited about her." Shahar recalls mustering the courage and after a few weeks making contact with her, which turned into virtual conversations because of the complex situation. "We talked endlessly, every evening when I could. I updated her when I was going out for military operations. There was immense excitement ahead of the first meeting. Later on, we also met up on a day when I went out on leave." Shahar admits he's the romantic type: "I bought her a siddur with her name inscribed, and instead of bringing us closer it pushed us apart. She started saying there was a problem with the pace even though she really wanted me."
Q: What happened when you wanted to share with her what you were going through in the war?
"There was an incident where my unit's troops almost lost our lives, and in the conversation, I felt she didn't understand and actually belittled it. She said 'It's okay, it will pass.'" In his eyes, this was seen as a dismissal, and her desire to go back to talking about what interested her at that moment. "I went through things I wouldn't wish on anyone, and I wanted her to let me dwell on it. Unfortunately, I felt I couldn't share what was happening because it stressed her out."
So she called before an overnight operational activity. "The call lasted a minute and a half, during which she said she wanted to be alone." He shares the pain over the timing of the breakup call while he was serving the country.
The wedding season, which got a bit stuck at the start of the war, reminds us of the perpetual wedding song "Together," performed in a moving rendition by the couple Marina Maximilian-Blumin and Guy Mintesh: "With you, even the end of the world doesn't scare me." It's hard to believe this calamity happened in our generation, but we will grow and gain strength and fulfill the commandment (also of Bennett's) to build a home in Israel.
Hopefully, for all of us there will only be "with you," without "the end of the world," and we'll never be afraid. We deserve to be "together."
