Refaeli and Israeli businessman Adi Ezra reportedly engaged


Israeli supermodel Bar Refaeli reportedly is engaged to her boyfriend of one year, businessman Adi Ezra.

Ezra, chairman of the food importing company Neto ME Holdings Ltd., based in the southern Israeli city Kiryat Malachi, proposed — and Refaeli said yes — while the couple was vacationing in the Caribbean, according to Ynet.

The couple reportedly had separated for a time in 2014 after Ezra was said to have become miffed at Refaeli for getting close to Mick Jagger during an after-party following the Rolling Stones’ performance in Israel.

Refaeli dated the American actor Leonardo DiCaprio from 2005 until 2011.

She married an older family friend in 2007, reportedly to avoid being drafted into mandatory service in Israel’s military.

Wedding Bell Oops!


Last time I saw Barry, he was dressed as an egg at a Purim party, so I was excited to run into him last month at a birthday party.

This time, for better or worse, he was wearing pants.

“Barry, what’s up? I haven’t seen you in forever. How’s life? How’s work? Ohmygosh, how was your wedding?”

“The wedding? Yeah, um, that whole wedding thing didn’t happen exactly the way I thought it would. Mostly because it didn’t happen at all. She called it off three weeks before the ceremony.”

Doctors at Cedars-Sinai are still trying to remove my high heel from my mouth.

I should have known better than to ask. I should have learned from Greg. Or Shannon. Or the nine — yes nine — other people I know who have called off their weddings. I should get them together to start a support group or form a minyan. Canceling a wedding has become that common these days. Just because a couple gets engaged, doesn’t mean that they’ll get married. It just means they’ve registered at Macy’s.

It no longer surprises me when couples don’t make it to the chuppah on time. Or at all. Which is why I keep the tags on my new cocktail dress and write “save the date” in pencil. I don’t run to reserve a hotel room in the “Rosen-Levy” block or pound the pavement for a “plus guest.” It would be rude for me to bring a date to the big event when the groom no longer has one. And yes, it always seems to be the groom who stands alone and the woman who says, “I don’t.” I mentioned this runaway-bride phenomenon to my current guy, Scott, over dinner at Denny’s last week.

“That’s because guys think about marriage a lot more than women do — we’re the ones who have to ask,” he explained. “And we don’t ask ’til we’re absolutely sure. Do you know how hard it is for a guy to pop the question? Do you know how long it takes for us to think we might possibly be ready to even start thinking about it?”

I’m beginning to get some idea.

Scott’s right, though. We’re talking about men — they spend a month choosing who to draft onto their fantasy football team. So they’re going to do a lot of soul searching and thinking — and drinking — before they decide whom they want to marry. Then they have to get up the courage to do a little thing called propose. All the girl has to do is say yes.

And we always do.

‘Cuz every girl wants to be a bride. Maybe that’s the problem. Girls fantasize about their wedding, not their marriage. I doubt my friends know if they’re wearing their hair up or down for their first week as a Mrs., but they know where every tress will be on the big day. They’re not cruising the newsstand for InStyle Marriage, but they wait by the mailbox for Modern Bride.

That’s why when some girls realize there’s life after honeymoon, that wedding gets canceled faster than a new fall sitcom dud.

Dating, proposal, shiny ring, big dress, bigger hair, saying “I do.” That’s the order. That’s how it’s supposed to happen. That’s the flow chart. So girls go with the flow. But you can’t go with the flow when a relationship gets this serious, ladies. Preseason dating is over.

Perhaps it’s just too easy for a woman to change her mind after she’s said yes. Maybe we should be required to back up our answer with a contract or a guarantee. Maybe a pinky swear. Or the bride should put her money where her heart is. Reception halls ask for a nonrefundable deposit — why shouldn’t the groom?

I’ve never been engaged, so I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to walk in a bride’s Vera Wang shoes. I don’t know how people who aren’t right for each other continue dating to the point of engagement. I don’t know if they failed to recognize their doubts or just chose to ignore them. I don’t know how much it hurts to call off a wedding. I don’t know when saying “I do” became so last season.

I do know it’s a troubling pattern, though, especially because it’s affecting my love life.

Canceled weddings are not good for us ladies-in-waiting. The worst thing about this broken engagement trend, besides the $50 I waste on each engagement gift, is the single-man snowball effect.

When a guy gets dumped by his fiance, his friends start to doubt their own relationships. The more guys entertain these doubts, the longer they wait to propose. The longer guys wait, the fewer girls who are getting engaged. What I’m saying is: It’s my friend Barry’s ex-fiance’s fault that I’m still single.

Actually, that’s not what I’m saying — it’s not entirely about me. A woman should not wed a man she doesn’t want to marry. That would be wrong. But a woman should only get engaged to a man she does want to marry.

Let’s start with the very word: engagement. It means commitment. It implies true love. There should be no take-backs. He didn’t give you his letterman’s jacket, his fraternity pin or a mix tape. He gave you a diamond engagement ring. He gave you his heart.

Call me a hopeless romantic, but I truly believe an accepted proposal should lead to a puffy white veil, Shevah Brachot, a broken glass and a lifetime together.

So when that special someone — the right someone, not the maybe someone — proposes, I’ll say yes, and I’ll mean it.

Final answer.

Because I know that when a guy does get down on one knee, he’s not asking “Will you wedding me?”

Carin Davis is a freelance writer and can be reached at sports@jewishjournal.com.

A Noodge Too Far


 

When I got engaged, my mom’s dearest girlfriends, whom I affectionately call “The Crones,” all sent me a card. On the front it said,

“Now that you are engaged, no one will ever ask you again ‘When are you getting married?'” On the inside it read, “So, when are you going to have a baby?” Although meant in jest, I have found that card to be profoundly true.

Every week, I read the columns written by singles, many of whom I know and some of whom I dated, and I empathize deeply with them. For many years, I was the single girl at the wedding or family gathering. Until I got married at 38 1/2 years old, I was constantly asked, “Are you dating anyone?” “When are you going to get married?” “Have you tried JDate?” (or fill in any other “helpful” suggestion).

It’s horrible. It’s painful. It sometimes makes you want to cry. I wanted to tell people to butt out, but I didn’t want to be rude. I would have liked to have said that I had a very satisfying life in many respects: I had an interesting career and lots of terrific friends; I enjoyed my home and my pet. But the married folks, especially older relatives, have only one thing in mind: They want you to get married. For the record, you likely want that, too, and you really don’t need them to remind you.

I thought, naively, that once I did get married last May, all my problems would be solved, including the matter of nosy and painful questions from well-meaning friends and relatives. Boy, was I wrong.

First of all, marriage is tough. You don’t just break the glass, kiss, leave the chuppah and live happily ever after. It is a ton of work. You have to compromise about everything. All of your quirks — eating cereal for dinner, wearing socks to bed — are discussed and dissected. Don’t get me wrong, I love my husband and the home we have created together. But there are things about my single life that I miss. Marriage doesn’t change everything. You are still you, with all your problems and issues, but now you have someone else around to point them out to you.

And then, there’s still a question — a much more personal and maybe more painful one then the dating and marriage questions. It’s the “When are you going to have a baby?” question. I get it from everyone, all the time, even though we’ve only been married six months. We don’t even have our wedding album back from the photographer.

My sex life is, apparently, an appropriate topic for conversation with anyone, anywhere. Those same well-meaning people who told me where to go to find a mate are now telling me how often and in what position to have sex to best increase our chances of conception, or suggesting herbs, acupuncture or other fertility-increasing remedies.

Recently I had a miscarriage, as at least 25 percent of pregnant women do. It’s been hard on my body and hard on both of us emotionally. It feels like a death in the family. The prospective grandparents, aunts and uncles are very upset too, since this would have been the first grandchild on both sides of the family.

Apparently miscarriage is very common. Both of our mothers had one, as did many of our dearest friends and relatives. For the most part, no one told us, so we’re just finding out as we shared our grief with others. Infertility is an issue among our friends, too. Our generation has waited longer than previous ones to try to start families. (Maybe they should have tried JDate.)

Every time someone asks me when I’m going to have a baby, I feel a stab of sadness about the failed pregnancy. I want to yell and scream and ask them what business it is of theirs. Or tell them that I miscarried just so I can see the look on their faces. But I don’t. I just mumble something about, “We’re trying” or “When it happens, it happens” to placate them.

I really think it is no one’s business but my husband’s and mine. We have only been married a short time and only recently started trying to have a baby. I can only imagine how hard that baby question must be on those who have had multiple miscarriages or endured painful, expensive and heartbreaking fertility treatments.

So, please, be sensitive to the single folks, who really want to get married. They don’t need you to remind them that they are single. And please, be sensitive to the married folks who don’t have a baby — yet.

Jill Franklin grew up in Los Angeles and is a freelance writer and attorney living in Chicago. She can be reached at jillfr@aol.com.