And so it happened that two weeks after our first meeting in the Golden Bar, I packed up my things, crossed Tel Aviv and moved in with Saâ€™ar into his small apartment in the quiet leafy streets on the northern side of the city, and after a day or two was already repainting the walls and throwing out half the stuff he had hoarded in his cupboards.
Another year after that and I finally managed to get him to move out of the place and into a light-filled renovated apartment on Dizengoff Street. And just a year after that I find myself sitting in that same apartment â€“ tonight right now as I write these words — surrounded by boxes, the bookshelf bare and waiting to be moved to his parents and a big dusty empty space where the fridge once stood before some dodgy guy our landlord knows came to pick it up today, and soon Iâ€™m going to have to pack up the computer too ready for another move and before I do that Iâ€™m sitting here thinking about how on earth Iâ€™m going to sum up the last three years with Saâ€™ar.
Saâ€™ar, who as it turns out was actually a famous singer, which is Israel seems to entitle every person on the street to stare at him, point at him or yell out his name from passing cars (and I thought being blonde was bad) Saâ€™ar with his beautiful warm, eccentric family, his Orthodox sister who â€œrefoundâ€ religion and with whom I found my picture appear in gossip magazines as we went hand in hand into nightclubs (the evidence of which I would show here were I not so horribly unphotogenic) and Saâ€™ar who last month was offered a job in London.
And so we are going to Londonâ€¦.and this time for realâ€¦