How war has transformed sex, dating and relationships in Israel

But a sense of romance and optimism disappeared almost entirely from her private life after the war broke out.

She said: “For several months, I couldn’t even think about being with someone. No sex, no dating, not even thinking about it.”

She had been previously preparing to freeze her eggs. That all changed after October 7, she said: “I couldn’t even think about bringing a child into this world. I was very, very scared.”

For a time, Ariela was a volunteer working closely with a hostage family, and it left her uncomfortable about finding pleasure in her own life: “I felt guilty about enjoying myself.”

But then a mother from a hostage families gave her permission to live her life fully.

“She told me: ‘It’s OK if you have fun. It’s OK if you smile,’” Ariela said. “Then suddenly something clicked.”

Returning to the world of dating, Ariela found it had changed: politics had become impossible to ignore.

“Before, I wouldn’t ask someone about their political stance. Today it’s question number three or four,” she said.

Dating took on an almost surreal aspect when Israel came under regular bombardment from Iranian missile attacks, Ariela found. Recalling surfing dating apps on her phone while in a shelter, she asked of herself: “Who in their right mind would go on a dating app while being targeted?”

Even flirtatious conversations could not escape the war, she recalled: “‘Do you have a mamad [safe room]?’ ‘Did you hear the siren?’ It was like 50 per cent of the conversation.”

But she also found inspiration seeing families around her in communal shelters. “I saw these women with their husbands beside them, and I thought: they have someone with them. I want that too.”

Ariela said the deaths due to the conflict have changed how people think about love, with so many parents mourning their children, while young fiancées and pregnant women have had to bury their partners.

Amid the tragedy, she was moved to think: “What a great love they experienced.”

Other Israelis have found that dating and relationships have often become more off-the-cuff and less about long-term commitment under the pressure of war.

Anna (not her real name), 44, a single woman in Jerusalem, said: “People are less serious, and more about casual, instant connections.”

Yet the war has only confirmed the love Anna has for her country. “I see myself staying in Israel and being more rooted. And making a family is part of that," she said.

Yehuda Lapian, born in Manhattan and raised in Jerusalem, is public relations manager for Peace of Mind/Metiv, which helps released combat soldiers return to civilian life. He has served six rounds of miluim [reserve duty] in Gaza and Lebanon since the war began.

For him, the first impact was emotional shutdown. “For a very long time, my whole being was: leave me alone,” he said. “The last thing in the world I want or need is another person to look at me, be with me, touch me.”

But the war pushed him towards wanting a family. “When I came back from Gaza, I promised myself: I don’t want one-night stands anymore. After seeing so much death, I wanted to build a family in the Jewish land.”

Despite trauma, sirens and uncertainty, Israelis continue to date, marry and try to build lives. Shana Tibi, a matchmaker, says the war has clarified what many people want.

“Now, more than ever, people are saying they want to marry someone Jewish,” she said. “Creating a Jewish family is the highest value that I’m seeing right now.”

Ariela believes Israeli society needs more patience with people whose relationships and family plans have been disrupted.

“We talk about a baby boom after the war,” she said. “But we are three years into the war. As a society, we’ve been through a huge trauma. So it’s OK if it takes a bit more time for us to process it.”