"Despite Growing Up in a Warm Home, I Almost Fell into the Clutches of a Hostile Relationship with a Man"

Einat was an ordinary girl: working, studying, and sticking to the path. She was lacking nothing except a groom. She was also deeply lonely, and she nearly fell into this abyss. The confusion made her imagine that some cheap compliments from Omar, the dishwasher at the restaurant where she worked, would ease the pain in her heart. Today, 25 years later, as a mature and experienced woman who understands a thing or two about life, she surprises us by telling how it almost happened to her too.

"I could easily have been one of those women who are rescued (in the 'good' case) from hostile places, or another statistic of women who never managed to escape and disappeared. I could have. The slope isn't slippery, there just isn't a slope. Just a deep abyss to fall into.

I could easily have found myself in a destructive relationship.

Today it horrifies me to even think about such a thing, but in my twenties, the loneliness, and the fact that no groom was in sight, distorted my compass".

"Hitchhiking with Strangers – We Were Warned About That at Home"

Omar worked at the steakhouse where I was employed as a waitress. I was a student in need of a lot of money and worked day and night, literally.

I live in a settlement in northern Samaria, and there isn't much public transportation to get me to the restaurant in the nearby city and back to the settlement.

Meanwhile, as I pondered the answer to the question of why I didn't have a way to get to work every day, there's one question with an answer: the evening shift at the restaurant starts at 9 PM, and how will I get there if the last bus to the city leaves the settlement at 5:30 PM?

The answer is hitchhiking. No, of course not with strangers. We were warned about that at home.

I had red lines.

Hitchhiking with Omar

At the restaurant where I worked, employee rights were optional, not mandatory, so the staff, mostly residents from nearby settlements, organized an improvised transportation arrangement. Whoever had a car would drive her friends based on 'first come, first served.'

Sometimes we wasted half a shift's wages on special cabs because otherwise, there was no way to get to work, and our boss didn't care.

Once, out of necessity, I even walked from my settlement to the city. A distance of 40 minutes. Not, God forbid, at night.

I had red lines.

This happened on one of the morning shifts. I missed the bus, and the options were: wait for the next bus that would arrive in two hours or start walking for only 40 minutes.

In fact, I never really knew how I would get home at the end of the night shift.

Sometimes we stayed at the restaurant until dawn to catch the first bus of the next day.

You might ask how a young girl works nights and doubles at a job that doesn't befit the title: Princess, the daughter of the King of Kings?

The answer is money and the desire to finish the degree already. Not the royal one, the academic one.

Before the degree, I had red lines: Work only in the mornings, and no more than twice a week.

During the degree, the lines were no longer clear. I had to compromise because the bank was pressing, and my parents couldn't financially help me with tuition. They helped me with living expenses because I lived at home and supported me emotionally and with encouraging words.

It turns out these mental reserves weren't enough to cope with the loneliness. No groom was in sight. My heart was wounded and bleeding from failed dates.

I didn't exchange many words with Omar, the dishwasher who worked with us. Hello and thank you. That's all.

At first, I didn't consider him a potential relationship. He was quiet and stayed in the background.

I had red lines.

At the end of one of the night shifts, cute Liat, who lived in my settlement, said we had a ride back home. I was happy.

"Oh, no," she said casually. "I don't have a car. Omar will take us in his."

'Well,' I thought. 'Liat's more experienced than me, and it's probably a common practice here at the restaurant. Don't worry, Einat,' I told myself. 'It could even be cool. Omar is just one of the guys.'

Another red line disappeared

'I don't have much money this month anyway, and I don't want to spend it on a cab.'

Another red line disappeared

'What, am I going to wait another two hours for the morning bus?

Another red line disappeared

'It's not like I'm alone or anything. Liat and I will get off together and continue on foot. She lives on the parallel street to mine.'

Another red line disappeared

And so, I found myself hitchhiking with Omar, whom I didn't know at all, not knowing he was planning on pursuing a relationship with me.

During the ride, Omar was friendly and smiling, the atmosphere was cheerful, and the ride was short and quick.

Great. I got home safely.

Life continued as usual until one day a heavy wooden chair fell on my foot during the shift. I was almost fainting from the pain. Thankfully, Ayala, my classmate who was dining at the restaurant at the time, drove me home to rest.

The Red Lines Disappear

"Hello? Einat, how are you? How are you feeling?"

'How did he get my phone number?' I thought for a second. The word 'audacious' also crept into my thoughts, but 'oh well, it's uncomfortable, he's just a poor dishwasher.' I thought to myself with pity. 'Talk to him for a few minutes. It’s not nice, engage in small talk.'

Another red line disappeared.

After I returned to work, I looked at Omar and suddenly saw that he was a pretty nice guy.

In quiet moments in the late hours of the night, when all the waitresses chatted among themselves, Omar joined our conversations. Some of the waitresses had already finished their break, boredom soared, so I talked with Omar. Yes, it is indeed intriguing to know what life is like for people outside my social class, those who come from a different mentality.

(Photo: shutterstock)

Another red line disappeared.

Omar told me with a smile that he has a baby girl and that he is divorced. He showed me a picture of her.

"So sweet, and beautiful," I told him. And him? 'Nice,' I thought. 'So young and already a father? A family man.'

Now I liked him. As a person, not as a man, God forbid.

I have red lines, after all. Don't I?

Another failed meeting, this time with Matan. Another potential meeting with Avi that ended during the phone conversation stage, and the monster of despair now lived in my room. What will become of me in the end?

And then, the next phone call from Omar really lifted my spirits: "You are so beautiful. I'll take you to Eilat, buy you whatever you want."

Boom. Direct hit.

I was stunned by this straightforwardness, but I also needed the good words and compliments to make me happy and show me I was wanted.

On one hand, there's no way I'm going out with someone who's not of my people, after all, I was raised according to the teachings of Judaism which say not to mingle with non-Jews, but on the other hand – he is so different: he indeed looks like all the guys from my settlement, but unlike them, with their harsh and direct nature, he is gentle and smiley.

I smiled awkwardly during the conversation. I didn't know what to say, and somehow I ended the call.

I wonder what will develop further.

I'm not hearing the alarm at all. I cut the siren wires and approached quickly towards the abyss covered with kind words and compliments.

A Last Moment Awakening

'I wonder when Omar will call again. Me? I don't have the courage,' I thought.

I'm not even admitting it to myself that it flatters me. Denying.

Do I still have red lines?

The phone rings. Midnight. An incoming call from a private number.

"Einat?"

"Yes."

"Einat??"

"Yes.. It's me."

The woman on the other end has a foreign accent. She stammers and then hesitates again and hangs up.

Something strange is happening here. Two seconds were enough for me to ask myself and answer myself:

How does she know my name? How did she get my phone number?

It was clear to me that she was connected to Omar: his wife, his ex-wife, his partner... perhaps his sister.

Maybe she snooped on his cellphone and realized he had a connection with me. (Oh my God - a connection?)

Maybe he told her.

Suddenly a strange boom led to a power drop on the illusion train I was riding.

I landed back on the ground and realized what I'd gotten myself into.

I got into something I want to get out of because it's too big for me.

The next time I got to work, I didn't even say hello to Omar.

I ignored him.

I was mad at him.

I was mad at him for lying to me. For being manipulative and taking without permission from the server contacts list intended for waitresses only, my phone number, because maybe he's even married, because...

Is it possible that I feel romantic jealousy towards a stranger? Yes, I have mixed feelings. Avoiding the thought that there was ever something here.

I shook my head. This illusion balloon burst.

Thank God that this was my lesson.

A few weeks later, Omar came to our restaurant as a customer. With a girl from the neighboring settlement. He sat close to the waitress station - so all the staff could see. Including me. I looked at him and saw the fake positive attitude he had towards her. Occasionally he peeked in my direction to make sure I was watching. It was obvious that he was trying demonstratively to show me he had moved on.

It was so pathetic. What did he think to himself? That I had any connection with him at all?

Only today, over 20 years later, I muster the courage to tell about it and admit that yes, I had a sort of connection with that guy named Omar.

(Photo: shutterstock)

Though not an explicit relationship. Not a relationship that even included a meeting, and certainly not a relationship that included any physical contact, God forbid.

It was almost. Almost too dangerous.

I’m here to tell and warn that even a girl like me,

the intelligent student

who thought she had sound judgment,

who thought she was very smart,

who thought she had red lines.

Nonetheless, was in this risk group.

The 'Captives' department continues to operate tirelessly to prevent all forms of assimilation relations in Israel and worldwide in all appropriate ways.

Captives – The Department for Prevention of Assimilation, for inquiries and reports: Tel: 073-2221333 or 052-9551591. Emailkalina@htv.co.il