Hilchos Dating – Kavanah

 

Dating has an arbitrary and often ridiculous protocol of its own. Just trying to understand the protocol can make a person dizzy. I guess that’s a downside to living a life based on halacha—as a nation, we expect everything to be codified and set in stone. So when there are no guidelines, we make up our own, and expect everyone to stick to them like they’re the Law from on high.

A neighbor once dated a girl whose family came from somewhere in Hungary with strict dating customs. So my neighbor goes to pick up his girl, and the parents sit him within eyeshot of a lavish spread and interrogate him, but don’t offer him a morsel, even though he’d driven an hour and a half to get there. One date #2 they offered him a drink. Apparently, that meant they liked him. If they ever offered him a piece of cake, it would mean they were waiting for him to propose. This poor neighbor wanted to break it off, but didn’t know the ceremony. So he just did it his own way and told the shadchan to forget about it. They were glad to see the back of such a rude boy.

One of the rules, at least for native New Yorkers, is that the parents don’t tell the girl what’s happening until it’s practically settled. Out-of-towners, who often have to search up their own dates, are obviously subject to the entire ugly process from start to finish. But for the rest of us, it’s a surprise, like a second birthday.

OK, maybe not quite like a second birthday. At this point, we’re trying to keep our age down, so extraneous birthdays are not all that wonderful.

But it’s most annoying when, not only do you find out that there’s a gentleman (you hope) in the offing, but that he’s been there for several weeks and you’re the only one in the house who didn’t know that.

Here’s how I learned about my first date. Disclaimer: my parents were utterly clueless, because my older siblings did all their dating in Israel without much help.

I’m finished supper, dropping my fork and plate in the sink on my way upstairs.

“Bad4, do you have a minute?” my father asks.

Figuring I’m going to be asked to do the dishes, I answer, “A minute? Are you kidding? With four term papers each requiring me to read a 300-page book? I can’t believe I just spared a minute to eat, that’s how few minutes I have.” And I try to make a quick getaway.

“Bad4! Get back here!” my father calls after me. I slide back into the kitchen. “Is this going to be unpleasant? Because I have some soothing logarithms upstairs…”

“Very unpleasant. We want to talk to you so please come sit down.”

We? Want to talk? Now if that isn’t a bad sign I don’t know what is. I slink over to a chair while my mother informs my younger sister that her presence is redundant. She smirks and brushes past, whispering in my ear, “He sounds really good.”

“What?” I squawk. She turns and sticks one hand on her hip and does that little wrist-flip with the other. “What—you mean you didn’t know? It was like, sooo obvious.”

My parents look at each other. “It was?”

Younger Sister rolls her eyes, wiggles her ears, and makes a grand exit.

That was more than enough for me. “In the future, can I hear about these things firsthand before it arrives through the grapevine?”

And that’s how that halacha came to be disregarded in the Shidduchim household.

Can You Set Me Up?

Mrs. Klein’s husband is rabbi of a Manhattan shul that caters to the young, single, and in-a-local-Ivy-League crowd, so she’s seen everything. Pretty much. Still, she was floored the day a woman approached her and asked if Rabbi Klein might know someone for her?

The woman was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and admitted that she wasn’t Jewish. But she was 27 and tired of dating. She wanted to settle down, but the system in which she was dating didn’t seem conducive to meeting nice guys and aiming for matrimony.

“There’s no way of checking up on a guy – you don’t know what kind of weirdo he really is,” she complained. “In the shidduch system, you know about his background and a little bit about him. So maybe your husband can keep me in mind?”

Mrs. Klein prevaricated like a politician, changed the subject, and filed the story away for her memoirs.

They Are the Happy Couples

I was recently at a wedding that had the most gorgeous flower arrangements I’ve seen yet. They were these driftwood-and-candle businesses, and quite breathtaking. I commented to a friend that there were certain perks to getting married late: you can collect the best ideas from every wedding to make your own absolutely fantabulous.

There are other pros to marrying late. You have more time to collect and think about all sorts of marriage-related topics, including marriage itself. You find out how many of your friends fell in love at first sight and how many were still wondering, “Is this the right guy?” under the chupah. You observe how they interact with their husbands and what roles they take on in the house. It’s both interesting and educational.

Take, for example, the time I was at a married friend on a Thursday night. Circumstances prevented the laundry from being done until close to midnight – and it included the sheets I would need to sleep. The Mister put up the laundry at the local laundromat and then settled on the couch with a DVD while we worked on some kugel for Shobbos.

The Mrs, weighed down with the task of remembering everything that needed to be done before Shobbos (and before her yawning guest could get some shut-eye), was feeling a bit stressed out. Suddenly she looked up from the potatoes. “Husband,” said she, “Go check on the laundry.” He surfaced from cinema-land and checked his watch. “It’s only been in for half an hour,” he pointed out.

“I don’t care,” she replied hectically. “Maybe it finished. Just check!”

He paused the video, unplugged his ears, and went. I was astonished. “I can’t believe he did that,” I informed her.

“Did what?” she asked, distracted.

“Actually went. If my own mother had told me to do something so ridiculous, especially while I was in middle of something, I would have argued.”

The anxiety cleared off her face and was replaced by a happy, dopey, and slightly soppy, expression. “I know! He’s wonderful! I love him!”
I humbly realized that her husband was ahead of me in prioritizing. He realized that the facts don’t make a difference when someone is feeling stressed. They just want to know that things are orderly and happening. And if you care about them, you’ll go the extra mile to provide that illusion.

I’m glad to say that my friend reciprocates, treating her husband’s less rationale needs as if they were the most important things in the world.

Just observing and listening to stories, I gather that the happiest couples are the ones who have high tolerance for each other’s foibles. “Tolerance” is even the wrong word. “Respect” or even “admiration” might be better. A sort of appreciation that the things that are most annoying about the person are often part and parcel of what make them most wonderful.

Metaphorically, it’s probably like the scene from Making Money (another Pratchett novel) where an artist has his sense of identity swapped for that of a turnip. The artist is no longer paranoid, jittery, or hallucinating. But neither can he draw to save his life. The turnip, on the other hand… never mind.

The story that crystallized it for me was the story of a couple who slept on mattresses on the floor for their first month in their new apartment so that she could have her upright piano that she absolutely needed. Later on, he used to take time off to accompany her on antique-hunting forays into the wilds of Sunday morning garage sales. Some might roll their eyes and say, “That’s what happens when you married someone cultured,” but her husband (who liked any chair, so long as it didn’t wobble too much) loved that as part and parcel of the best of her. And it was worth being uncomfortable for a few weeks or wasting (“wasting”) a few Sundays.

Her biggest complaint against him was lack of ambition, or maybe too much modesty, or whatever, but in the same breath that she’d complain that he was too quiet, she’d admire how much he did in that quiet way. She realized that they went together, and only made a fuss about it when she felt he was really crippling himself.

Here’s another interesting something to chew on: a story of a him who wanted to marry a her even though his parents were adamantly against her. Her parents were against him because his parents were against her - they didn’t want their daughter being miserable. Finally, her parents made him sign and swear that in any family disputes, he would always take his wife’s side. He did and they married. Imagine how interesting it must be to be forced to always agree with your spouse and to think, while you’re choking back the spleen – “I’m doing this because I crazy love her/him.” (They’re still married, decades later.)

I wonder what would happen if a couple without extenuating circumstances tried the same thing.

Maybe I’ll try it on some immediate family.

When Do We Do the Maturing?

Had an argument with a friend a few days ago. She maintained that a person has to have a completed checklist of maturity items before they are ready to marry. The items, taken from Head to Heart, basically describe an ideal individual.

I asserted that some things you only learn from necessity, while others can be learned on the job.

Obviously I am not suggesting that self-absorbed individuals should marry and learn to care about others after the chupah. But things like “putting the needs of others before your own” or “noticing when someone is upset” manifest differently when you have a significant other, and are probably easier to develop when you have a conscious reason for doing so. Marriage itself is a maturing experience. Even non-perfect individuals can take a crack at it. Right?

Do You Write?

There was some reaction to a mini-grump about Jewish “literature”. Actually, there’s a fellow starting an Orthodox literary magazine and he’s looking for material – short stories and the like. Not stuff that would get printed in standard Ortho-mags – writing that is just plain good.

If you have what it takes to produce real writing, check below for contact info.

Is Big Sister Really Watching?

Another complaint of the girl-who-is-not-an-animal was that she feels like cattle in the market whenever she attends a wedding. She feels the eyes boring into her, scanning her from top to bottom, evaluating her, and pigeonholing her away…

I think she needs a therapist.

Seriously, has anyone ever seen any of these Women in Black who stand on the side with their little notebooks jotting down details about every female of age in the room? I’ve looked and looked for them, but couldn’t for the life of me find any.

There was a point when I believed they must exist because everyone told me they did. However, they were so good at disguising their snooping that I couldn’t immediately pick them out. But I kept trying.  It got to the point where I’d be talking to a friend at a shmorg and suddenly spin around, hoping to catch a Big Sister with her telescope still pressed to her eye or her little black book still out. But nobody was ever paying me any attention at all.

I was insulted. Every other single woman in the tri-state area has a dozen shadchanim scrutinizing her at weddings, but not even one deems me worthy of attention?

Then I thought  perhaps I need to be more approachable, so I began smiling at strange women at odd moments. All I got were polite “who the heck are you?” smiles back. Another dead end. A heretical suspicion began to grow: maybe these women don’t exist.

So I started lurking around the edges of the room observing people surreptitiously, looking for the ones who were looking at others. But everyone always seemed busy chatting with their friends or stuffing their faces with expensive meat from the carving stations.

Eventually I gave up and concluded that they are a myth created by the establishment to keep in line the young women who might otherwise feel liberated and get a bit wild.

OK, mild exaggeration there, but seriously, I’ve only once seen a would-be shadchan at a wedding, and I’ve been to dozens and dozens. If I can’t find these ladies when I look for them, how on earth can this poor girl feel their eyes on her when she’s not? It must be in her mind.

Unfortunately, it’s in everyone else’s minds too.

Last week, while schmoozing at a shmorg, I tried hitching a post-chupah ride home with a neighbor. I barely knew the bride, and saw no reason to stay longer.

“Leaving so soon?” my neighbor was horrified. “You need to stay around, not go home with the old ladies!”

“No, I need to get home,” I insisted.

“You need to stay around a bit longer – good advertising, I tell my daughter.”

Now it was my turn to be horrified. What a backwards reason to attend a wedding.

“Not that you’ll wear a sign,” the neighbor assured me, seeing my face. “But just to… be seen.”

“My life goal,” I assured her crisply, “Is to do everything that is bad for shidduchim and get married anyway.”

She laughed. “And I’m sure you husband will love you for it.”

“I hope so,” I said. “So can I get a ride home with you?”

“No, no. You stay here and walk around.”

Must give those Women in Black a chance to see how nicely I stand around and look pretty.

I did get my ride home, but only after I put on my coat and stood outside demonstrating my willingness to get any ride home with anybody, since she was unwilling to do me the service.

What Animal Would You Marry?

Portrait of the author:

Skimming the Hamodia this week, I found a letter responding to a Reader’s Forum article about the habit of comparing girls to animals for purposes of shidduchim. The bochur wrote that he got the same question about his (male) roommate recently and didn’t see why it was unreasonable; chazal compare people to animals all the time.

Intrigued, I dug through the newspaper stack to the previous issue, and found another letter to the editor by a woman who agreed with the Reader’s Forum writer that our girls are being degraded by these terrible questions; she got the same animal question last week, closely followed by another humdinger: “What cemetery are her grandparents buried in?”

Now really curious, I dug down through the papers further, mentally blessing my father for not recycling them yet. Finally, I uncovered the Reader’s Forum piece.

It was written by a young lady in shidduchim who was answering some questions about her friend. After a little chat the mother asked, “What animal would you compare your friend to?” The young lady was horrified. How dare this woman compare her friend to an animal? The mother went on to ask, “And can you list all her chesronos?” The young lady thought angrily, “Because your son is perfect?” and terminated the call.

She used this as a springboard to write 200 words about how dehumanizing the shidduch process is and how little respect girls—I mean, young women—get. She says she feels like chattel being eyed for the market whenever she attends a wedding, but until now, nobody had ever vocalized the unsaid but understoond status of young ladies of marriageable age.

I feel bad for her. She has such a large chip on her shoulder that she can’t see around it.

The questions “What animal would you be?” and “What’s your greatest shortcoming?” are classic job-interview questions. The propriety of treating marriage as a job is not a subject for this post. But this mother didn’t deserve the rage directed at her. She wasn’t calling anyone an animal and she wasn’t suggesting that her son was stooping to date this girl. She was just attempting to gauge—albeit in a misguided way—the temperament and character of a prospective match.

That aside, since three people wrote in saying they received the same “animal” question regarding shidduchim, it seems clear that we must prepare an appropriate answer.

For job interviews, the right answer is always “cat.” Cats are neat, poised, independent, and always land on their feet. Employers like that. I’ve used it. I’m employed.

As for the “chisronos” question: the best strategy is to name a real failing that won’t come into play in the job you’re seeking. For example, if you’re interviewing to work as a salesman, lament your inability to work on a team.

But employment isn’t the same as marriage. Cats are too independent for marriage, while dogs are too reliant. Besides, they drool and need to be taken for walks. Not exactly how you want your prospective mother-in-law to think about you. So I asked my family to come up with my shidduch fauna persona. It took a bit of thought. My mother suggested “seal” because they come with very little baggage by way of connotations. At the very worst, they always seem to be enjoying themselves and they can balance balls on their noses. For a future-housekeeping career-woman, being able to balance something on one’s nose can be a valuable talent.

My father suggested “mare” because they’re calm, can both work and be motherly, and are associated with a horse’s power, versatility, and beauty without the connotation about eating like one.

Working out my chisronos is taking a bit more thought because the nature of marriage is that very few things don’t come into play in it. In the mean time, I’ll let all my references know that my animal alter ego is a mare.

Portrait of the author in the kitchen:

Bad for Shidduchim Club Rules

No retroactive points – start today

All actions must be in a public setting that is populated by the public (ie: dancing the highland fling on Coney and M at 3 am doesn’t count) or a similarly appropriately inappropriate setting

Some things are going to have to be awarded relativistic points. Obviously telling someone you have a blog will scandalize them only if they come from a certain background. Others might just consider you weird, and some will think you’re totally sane. (I do. No wait, I don’t.)

If you’re going truck surfing, take me along!

All  suggestions posted below sound good to me, though I suppose we’ll have to figure out points in the ice cream parlor.

The Bad for Shidduchim Club

Wouldn’t it be inspiring to step out from under the wedding canopy and announce to all the singles with the bittersweet smiles: “Fear not, my friends! Here I stand lawfully wedded despite wearing hoodie sweatshirts to Touro and ponytails to weddings!” What a source of chizuk that would be… assuming none of them mutter something like “So that’s why it took you this long.”

The Bad for Shidduchim Club is not my idea. I’d love to give credit where it’s due, but for obvious reasons, will refrain from doing so. Suffice it to say that a happily married woman told me about it, inspiring me for life.

Mrs. Married told me that she and many of her friends remained Miss Singles for an “unusually” long amount of time. At the venerable old age of 26 they were still unpaired, like socks out of the dryer. And they were thoroughly sick of it. “It” being everything shidduch dating, but mostly the ridiculous restraints and pressures put on them. So they started the Bad for Shidduchim Club.

Really it was more of an ongoing points contest. Actions that are considered “bad for shidduchim” were all assigned point values. For example, going to college in a ponytail would be worth 10 points, while rolling out of bed and not even touching one’s hair the entire day might be worth 90 for curlyheads and 70 for straight-haired participants. The purpose is to accumulate as many points as possible. Meeting a benchmark figure entitles you to an ice cream or pizza courtesy of the other club members, which you eat while giggling and telling stories about how people reacted to your scandalous behavior.

Some people know how to live.

So, using a point scale of increments by 10 running from 10 to 100, here are some ideas:

10 – ponytail all day

20 – long skirt all day (must leave house and pass through major Jewish center at some point)

30 – wear crocs or hiking boots for a day of shopping

30 – long skirt combined with hoodie sweatshirt and sneakers in Touro, Machon L’Parnassa, or somewhere similar

30 – send your mother shopping with one of those old-lady shopping carts

40 – wear a denim skirt and white tube socks on 13^th Avenue

40 – rollerblade down a major avenue

50 – go jogging, in broad daylight, through a Jewish neighborhood

50 – attend a vort or wedding in regular Shobbos clothing

50 – not offering to “help” when spending Shobbos in a house that has 4 teenaged girls jostling for room in the kitchen

50 – dress up in a full costume on Purim

60 – get your picture in the newspaper

60 – loudly ask for some hard liquor at the bar at a simcha

60 – hitchhike around town

70 – meet your male cousin on a busy avenue and stand conversing on the street corner for 5 minutes. An additional 10 points for every additional two minutes you chat.

70 – tell people that you’re “going for” something unusual, like philosophy or astrophysics

70 – attend a wedding without makeup

80 – publish a novel under your real name

80 – ponytail to a wedding

80 – take up fencing at a local Renaissance Faire

90 – no touching your hair day

90 – appear to smoke a cigarette on a street corner/drink from a can in a paper bag

100 – appear on your own float in the Thanksgiving Day Parade, throwing out copies of your ‘resume’ like confetti

TBA – Any utterly shocking behavior – like grabbing a handle in the back of and riding a truck down Coney Island Avenue, dashing into a wedding wearing your work clothes “just to say mazal tov”, dancing in a thunderstorm, running around and around in a revolving door, wearing a towel on International Towel Day, or holding a shopping-cart race in Target will need to be assigned point-value by vote.

Obviously I’m missing quite a number of actions. Feel free to contribute below.

Awards will be given at levels of 200, meaning after earning 200 points, a person gets their first award, and after another 200, they get another prize.

Anyone want to form a chapter and start earning points immediately?

Yes, That Probably Would Be Bad for Shidduchim

Setting: Literature class.

Subject: Don Quixote.

Situation: Professor attempting to explain why the title character’s niece would object to him running about the countryside tilting at windmills – particularly when she’s engaged to an up-and-coming young doctor. Suddenly there’s a shriek of understanding from the from middle of the room.

“It’s bad for shidduchim!” the shrieker giggles. Eyes light up in comprehension. Heads nod in understanding. Professor smiles. Class moves on.

Just another evening in Touro College.

Happy Turkey Day to all!

Oh the Things We Do (and Don’t Do) Because of Shidduchim

Someone passed around a manila envelope in class last week. You know, those envelopes with a sob story written on the side: “This money is being collected for a family of 12 orphans living in a cardboard box in Yerushalayim.” You have no way of knowing if it’s true or not, but you stick in a few quarters or a dollar because how can you not?

I mentioned to a friend, as she upended her change into the envelope, that passing one around might be a good way to pay the rent. You know, “This money is being collected for otherwise homeless singles [read: nebach cases] who can’t afford to put a roof over their head.” Or something like that. Do it in every class, assume everyone gives, on average, fifty cents, there are over 700 female students in Touro College… do the math. OK, it’s not the entire rent, but it’s a good start.

We ended up talking about begging in general. About how to forge a haskama-type letter that all door-to-door collectors seem to have, or the best strategy for street corners. We discussed the practical application of the Sherlock Holmes story “The Man with the Twisted Lip” and mused over whether, in fact, begging would yield more than our current salaries on a per diem basis. After concluding that it would probably come close, that it has more flexible hours, and that in the fall, spring and part of summer it might actually be enjoyable to be getting exercise in the fresh air, we began discussing the best way to get into the field.

“When I’m in graduate school I won’t be able to work at all,” my friend said. “But a few hours a day on 13th Avenue, a few hours a day on Avenue J – I won’t drown in debt.”

“Yes,” I begin to agree, when suddenly it occurs to me. “But you can’t beg where you might meet anyone who knows you! It would be terrible for shidduchim!”

She frowned. “Good point. That kind of ruins things, doesn’t it?”

It does. It really does. There are sooo many things we don’t do just because of how it would appear for shidduchim…

Seriously, there really are. There’s a sizable chunk of Touro College students who are attending because “Brooklyn College” looks awful on the ‘resume’. I crack up every time Dean Goldschmidt says something like, “We must be doing something right – we get more and more students every year!” Yah right. It has less to do with the administration and more to do with herd mentality.

And then there’s jobs. Everyone has to know what they’re “going for” from before they appear for freshman registration, because they need something to say for shidduch dating reasons. And heaven forbid it should be a job that doesn’t pay well.

At some point I was attempting to pull together a cross-country road trip. Incredibly enough, one of the objections people’s parents put forth was, “But what will people think?” (In the end I dumped it as too pricey and time consuming. But if anyone wants to attempt to hit the Mississippi, I’m open for this summer.)

As a whole, our society is incredibly self-conscious. In my humble opinion, we care altogether too much what “people will think.” Which brings me right along to the Bad4Shidduchim Club…

The 10% Revisited

ProfK posted extensively on the 10% problem as described by Mr. Tropper on this blog.

Post the first is over here, and post the second is over here. I don’t agree with all the logic, but there are some good points.

Even More 10% Followup

Another email from Mr. Tropper providing more fun with numbers. This is apparently how actuaries spend their free time, when the rest of us are zoning out or eating cookies.

Here it goes:

“In theory – In order to solve the issue the average age gap only has to be reduced by about 30 days a year. “

Meaning, we don’t want 20-year-olds marrying only other 20-year-olds. What we really need is that the average age gap reduce by about 30 days every year for a series of years.

“As the age gap goes down the rate the age gap has to be reduced goes down. So after say 10 years the reduction would have to be about 20 days. The goal in this theoretical world would be that after about 30 years men would marry women about 1 year younger than themselves (to account for the 1.05 sex ratio).”

That’s more fun-with-math stuff. If you don’t follow it, don’t worry.

“To understand why this is so we can imagine a world in which everyone is average – all boys marry when they are 23 and all girls marry when they are 20. Let us assume that due to the skewed ratio of girls to boys the relevant power decided that all boys must marry at 22 instead of 23. If such a thing where to happen there would be close to twice as many boys as girls dating in that year. That is because we would have all the 23 year old boys and all the 22 year old boys dating only one year of girls.”

The last two sentences are unclear, so let’s clarify them. In this perfect world, every man gets married at the age of 23 to a girl of 20. If you declare that now men must marry at 22, then the year’s 23-year-olds and the years 22-year-olds are in direct competition for the same set of 20-year-old women. This would reverse the crisis, but not be much fun.

“In order to solve the problem (in our theoretical world) the age boys marry would have to be reduced slowly, by about 30 days each year [for a number of years].”

To avoid the rush on women.

“Obviously we do not live in a world where things can be done like that however the underlying principal remains true. Even a very small change in the average age gap will have a relatively large effect on the ratio of boys to girls.
It is for this reason we believe the issue is a lot more solvable then it would appear.”

I then emailed the following questions and got the following responses:

But – and here’s a rather large but – there are places where math seems to break down in the face of reality, which is not perfect, average, or subject to no forces besides equations.

“Although there is no absolute age gap in the real world there is an average age gap, which should act pretty much the same as an absolute one. Granted there are other issues in the real world such as the uncertainty in the birth rate, gender ratio, and individual preferences, however these issues account for only a small part (maybe 2 or 3%) of the problem.”

There is such a thing as mathematical sophistry. Why would this theoretically perfect world be a model for our not-theoretically not-perfect one?

“The relevant point here is that the issue is solvable both in the short term and the long term. Since, in our opinion, a majority of the disparity between the numbers of girls and boys in shidduchim is due to the age gap issue, the theoretical principles that can be used to solve the problem should work in the real world as well.
It if important to note that the solution to the problem does not require drastic changes in dating patterns, an unlikely proposition. Even a small change in dating pattern will be enough to solve the problem for the next decade or so. Obviously we will want to continue working so that we do not have an issue in a decade from now either.”

The Importance of Being Earnest, but Not Lemony Snicket

I’m not saying anything new when I say that The Importance of Being Earnest and Pride and Prejudice are the two greatest works on the subject of shidduch dating. Oh, there are some minor differences between Regency matchmaking, Victorian matchmaking, and shidduch matchmaking, but nothing major… and yet, one wonders why we need to read Regency and Victorian literature to get our laughs about shidduch dating. You’d think someone Jewish could have managed something by now.

This is not going to be a rant against the state of Jewish literature, though I can launch into one of those on demand, day or night, and in any state of consciousness. There is really nothing wrong with Jewish writing. There is something wrong with Jewish publishers. This I learned from someone who said that her novel was rejected by Artscroll because she refused to alter five key plot points to suit their agenda. Just imagine the list of necessary corrections that a shidduch farce in the style of Oscar Wilde would receive. The mangled remains would be indistinguishable from any of the “politically correct” processed tree carcasses selling on Judaica shelves.

Besides, the people who are most intimately acquainted with shidduch dating are the ones who are least likely to take the risk of writing a novel. Yes, as ridiculous as it sounds, it’s a risk.

Remember that silly rumor that Lemony Snicket was a yeshiva bochur? A local source of unerringly inaccurate news assured me that her classmate’s brother was learning with him bichavrusa in Waterbury. I said the one thing her classmate’s brother was doing in Waterbury was laughing his milk through his nose at her naïveté.

There are two reasons this rumor germinated and blossomed so vigorously.

The first is that Lemony Snicket, in all his photos, invariably wears a suit and hat. That the hat is a fedora and not a borselino bothers none of the rumor-mongers. That there is a brisk market for suits across the nation exclusive of yeshiva bochurim is apparently also beside the point.

The second reason, and the most compelling one, is that Lemony Snicket is invariably unidentifiable in all his photos. Surely there’s no reason a non-Jew would want to remain anonymous—whereas there’s no reason a Jew would want to be identified with a blockbuster series. What sane yungerman would risk his reputation by publishing a national bestseller? Heavens! What would people think? He’d never get married!

Just imagine the pre-date checkout:

“He’s written a book series? When did he have time to write a dozen [ed: or is it two dozen?] books? He must not be a serious learner. And aren’t those the books with the vocabulary words for children? Where would a bochur get a vocabulary from? Besides misspending his time writing now, he must have had a misspent youth reading. Who knows what sort of ideas it put into his head? Actually, we do know what sort. Aren’t those books the ones where all the adults are evil and the children are always right? The values it teaches! He must have no respect for teachers and elders. His parents must not have raised him properly. They’d make terrible in-laws for my daughter—and grandparents for my grandchildren. And the events of the book! They aren’t unfortunate events, they’re plain bizarre events. Only a truly sick and distorted mind could have come up with such events. What would Freud say about them? The bochur cannot possibly be totally OK up there. Can I risk putting my daughter in that madman’s company for even two hours? What would be the point? There’s no chance he could be the one for her. No, I don’t think he’s for us. Ne-ext.”

Bas~Melech’s Game-Thingy

Do you doodle, draw, photograph, sketch, etc…?

Then this might interest you.

“I Know His Sister…”

Don’t you love the chazal that recommends that if you want to wed a girl you should check out her brother? When I try to apply that to myself I inevitably run up against the same brick wall of a question: Which brother?

In terms of personality, I’m probably more like the one in the white shirt with the felt yarmulke on the back of his head. The one who has no intention of ever becoming what we term “employed”. But in terms of attitudes, I’m more like the one with the blue shirts and the leather yarmulke on the top of his head who’s been an entrepreneur since the tender age of 12.

And let’s not start on the sisters. I always shudder when people say things like, “I don’t know him but I know his family,” or “I don’t know her but I know her sister” or better yet, “Do you have a sister? I have someone for her.” Like right. I’m nothing like my older sister. But me and my younger sister are such polar opposites that we often argue over which of us is adopted. I always win, because I’m the spitting image of my mother.

In fact, just yesterday in shul a teenaged neighbor commented to me and my mother as we were on our way out, “Do you know—you guys look identical? It’s scary. Do you ever get confused and mix yourselves up?”

“All the time,” I deadpanned. “Why just yesterday morning I found myself brushing my mother’s teeth.”

“I’m not sure if you’re flattering me or insulting Bad4,” my mother observed. She’s long ago reached the point where she lies about her age. She tells people that she’s 86 so they’ll marvel about how young she looks for her age.

“Insulted?” the neighbor responded, way too loudly. “I would love it if I looked like my mother!”

“You would?” we both chorused, glancing over to her mother who was chatting nearby. Her mother looked up briefly.

“She wants a digital camera for her birthday,” she said.

 

But where were we? Oh yes, I look like my mother so I can’t be adopted. My sister, on the other hand, doesn’t look exactly like anyone. We think she might take after my father, but it’s hard to tell, seeing as the balance of his hair is on the other end of his face and (thankfully) doesn’t have a dorky headband in it. Dorky according to me, of course. I think my sister considers them “cute”. We get along famously in that way. Typical routine:

Sister: (bursting in holding a pair of shoes) Hey Bad4! Like my new shoes?

Me: (looking up briefly from book) They’re hideous.

Sister: (grinning ecstatically) I’m so excited! I was sooo afraid you’d like them!

Me: Not a chance. You know, I’m very impressed. I didn’t know they made shoes uglier than your last pair. But lo and behold! Here we have living—actually, dead—I’m sure dead—I would just die if I looked like that—evidence.

Sister: (giggles) Yes! This pair is much nicer than last pair.

Me: Last pair was just a factory accident. These are a misanthrope’s revenge on humanity.

Sister: (practically bouncing in joy) Thanks, Bad4! I really liked them before, but now I love them! (runs from the room shouting) Ma! I adore my new shoes! I can’t wait to wear them!

Me: (sits up abruptly) Hey waitasec! You can’t wear those in public! I’ll never get married!

As I was saying, do you know my sister? Maybe you have someone for me?

Retrospective

Six months (six! That’s half a year!) and 150 posts may be a drop early for a retrospective, but Halfshared’s post about the purpose of her blog set me thinking.

The scene was the living room, the day was Shobbos afternoon, the action was me, pausing for a breath in middle of a whinge against the shidduch system.

“You know, I can just keep going forever,” I say, preparing to launch into part 3-b.

“Please don’t!” beseeches my long-suffering younger sister, weakly holding up a hand to ward me off.

I did stop, but not because I had mercy on her. (After all, she’s only my sister…) I was thinking, “Gosh, I wonder if I could go on forever!”

I’d been thinking about blogging because it seemed everyone was blogging, but I couldn’t think of anything to blog about. I figured it had to be something I both knew about and that wasn’t blogged about in a hundred other places. And it had to be something I could write about almost perpetually. Was shidduchim the topic? I popped off to WordPress to see.

150 posts later, I’m still not out of ideas. But BadforShidduchim has done something else for me as well. Like Halfshared, blogging my angst keeps me from venting in real life. My family hasn’t had to listen to a single complaint since. And when something does strike me as lunacy, I try to find the funny angle so I can turn it into a good post. Though it takes up more time than I’d like to admit, BadforShidduchim has been great for my sanity.

So why not share the joy? If you’re reading, you must have stories that, viewed from the right perspective, are full of humorous pathos. Or frustration and irony. If you have something, submit it via comment form labelled “Share the Joy Submission” or something like that, and I’ll paste it up with proper credit.

You’re Sorry for Me? I’m So Sorry…

In the spirit of my recommended response for people who say “im yirtza Hashem by you“, and based on the reader response to “You’re single? I’m so sorry…” I would like to recommend that the next time someone acts sensitively toward you simply because you’re single, put an arm around their shoulder, let your voice go soft, and say, with the utmost sympathy:

“I’m so sorry that you have trouble coming to terms with my being single. Is there any way I can help? Do you want to talk about it?”

(And send me a picture of their face…)

I’m Old – I’m Young

We’re at a vort from the Lakewood side. My mother drifts my way and asks, “So have you said hello to Tante Malka yet?”

“To who?” I ask. I mean, yeah my parents have oodles of siblings, and yes I confess (with a blush) to losing track of my cousins, but I’m pretty sure I know all my aunts and uncles.

Just to double check, I pull out my trusty fingers and start ticking them off.

“Aunt Miri, Uncle Mordechai, Tante Mindy, Uncle Mendy, Aunt Menucha, Uncle Moishe, Aunt Mirel, Uncle Menachem…” Nope, no Tante Malkas.

“Tante Malka. She’s your great-aunt’s grandson’s aunt.”

“Does that make her related to me?”

“Sure! And she lives right near The Yeshiva and has boys over for Shobbos meals all the time.”

Oho. I see where this is heading.

“Mom, forget about it.”

“You’re not going to say mazal tov to your aunt? I can’t believe I raised you.”

“I’ve survived this long without saying hello to her; I can survive a little longer without saying anything else to her either.”

OK, fast forward the debate. Suffice it to say I find myself in front of Tante Malka. She’s a plump woman dressed up to her chin in a black suit.

“Malka, have you met my daughter, Bad4?”

“Oh how nice!” Tante Malka bubbles. “And what school are you in?”

School? I guess I don’t look very grown up today. “Uh… Touro College?”

“Touro College?” Tante Malka’s eyebrows reach for her hairline. Comprehension dawns. She scrutinizes me from the toes of my new Payless pumps to the top of my hastily done hair.

Oh merciful God… when I’m dying and my life is flashing before my eyes—can you please, please, please leave this part out?

“So how old are you?” Tante Malka asks, with a smile.

“Twenty one.”

“Twenty one! We have to find someone for you already! What are you looking for?”

Who am I looking for, I think darkly, but don’t say that. The conversation proceeds as all such conversations proceed. You don’t need me to fill in the rest.

 

Contrast that to the events at a wedding from the Manhattan side of the family. My grandmother steers me toward her second cousin’s granddaughter, a middle-aged woman with that pinched look characteristic of the serious dieter, whose skirt will not cover her knees when she sits. “Have you met my wonderful granddaughter Bad4?” my grandmother asks.

The second cousin’s granddaughter smiles. “I’ve heard all about you from your grandmother,” she tells me.

“Don’t believe half of it,” I say hastily. Everyone laughs, though I wasn’t joking.

“Now Bad4 needs a really wonderful fellow,” my grandmother begins.

“How old are you?” the second cousin’s granddaughter asks.

“Twenty one,” I answer.

“Only twenty one? What’s your rush? You’ve got plenty of time!”

“D’ya think so?” I ask rhetorically, thinking of Tante Malka.

“Yes of course!” she says, not knowing about Tante Malka. “You’re young – enjoy yourself a little. Don’t feel pressured to settle down.”

Maybe she does know about Tante Malka.

“Don’t worry,” I smile. “I’m not feeling any more pressure than I want to.”

“But if you know of any bright young men…” my grandmother persists. The cousin nods and begins a half-hearted grilling. I grin and bear it. Heck – who doesn’t need a bit of kapara now and then?

So am I old, or am I young? Should I be long-married or is that premature? Or does it go according to whichever side of the family you’re currently with?

As they say: it’s all relative.

Where the 10% Came From

To Whom It May Concern:

I don’t know if you realize, but that “10% will never marry” statistic has cause quite a flurry of alarm and anger among young spinsters. I’ve been involved in a series of conversations via email, blog posts, and real live talking all about that simple little “10%”.

Mostly we want to know: where on earth did it come from?

Where did the number come from, and how did you conclude that, in fact, 10% of today’s graduating class will never marry?

I thank you for clarifying this point for us.
Sincerely,
[Bad4Shidduchim]
21, Unmarried, and Not Particularly Worried

—————–

Hi [Bad4Shidduchim],

I understand that dealing with this issue is very painful, especially to one who is currently single. However if we don’t deal with it the situation will stay the way it is.

Briefly the 10% is based on two assumptions. The first is that the community is growing by about 4% a year and the second is that boys marry when they are about 3 years older than girls.

In a growing community, there are more younger members than older members. In a community growing at 4% a year there are 104 first graders for every hundred second graders. This means that there are 112 20-year-olds for every 100 23-year-olds (4% a year times 3 years leaving compounding out for simplicity). As more boys than girls are born, this works out to a gap of about 10%.

Much of this also depends on how one defines the target community as there is a large gray area between the various segments of the orthodox community.

I have been researching this area for a few years. I took my data from the Avi Chai Study on day schools. By comparing the sizes of different grades I was able to extrapolate the growth rate of the community. I am an actuary – for all it is worth. There is another far more detailed study done using multiple methods to derive the growth rate and tallying the ratio of boys to girls in shidduchim.

I don’t have any hard numbers for historical growth rates and age gaps. However I do believe that growth rates have been growing (the second derivative of the population) over the past several decades. If this is true, the problem should gradually worsening, assuming the age gap remains the same.

We have been working on this for several years and tried what we could. We could not think of anything else to do other than offer incentives to shadchanim to address the issue. If you have any ideas as to how this issue can be addressed I would love to hear it. I am sure you know that raising money is – to put it mildly – not easy.

I understand the pain this line causes to many people; however given the apathy we have encountered regarding this issue we felt the situation had to be laid out explicitly.

We made the decision. Specifically – R’ Kalman Epstein felt, and still feels, that this is an extremely serious issue and if the only way to deal with it is by scaring people than that is what must be done.

The phrase “10% will never get married” is not meant to be a prediction (certainly not a binding prediction). It was meant to be a warning that something must be done. I sincerely hope that we are wrong; however this is the situation as we see it.

Over the past several weeks we have been seeing signs that people are taking this issue more seriously. An example that comes to mind: two nights ago a shadchan called me and in the course of the conversation mentioned that the boy originally did not want to go out with a girl his own age. After he heard about the program and the importance of the issue he decided to go out.

I don’t know if I answered all of your questions. If not or if you would like anything else please give me a call or email me again.

Kol Tuv
Chaim Tropper

——

Hi,

Thanks for the clear explanation. Just one question: why would this be a recent problem? Meaning, haven’t births always increased as time passes? And haven’t men almost always married women younger than them? In which case, wouldn’t there always have been a percentage of the population that never married?

[Bad4Shidduchim]

——-

[Bad4shidduchim],

A couple of points.
1) The growth rate was much lower. Women nursed longer and more consistently, causing children to be spaced several years apart. Infant mortality and the childhood mortality rate was much higher, which also contributed to a depressed growth rate.
2) Maternal mortality was also much higher (0.6% per birth if I remember correctly), leaving many men widowed at a relatively young age. Furthermore, over all the mortality rate was higher leaving many widows and widowers.
3) It may have been a problem but people had much bigger problems to deal with such as illness lack of food etc.

I do not know anything about the average historical age gap but it could very well be that it was lower than it is today.

There have been times that the ratio was skewed significantly more than it is today, generally due to war. In fact I believe that after WWI the ratio was 2 to 1 in some places. There was considerable talk about allowing polygamy then.

All the Best,

Chaim Tropper

——

Thanks again. May I post your response on my blog for the benefit of the masses?

——

Yes, just make sure there are no typos.

I am attaching an article I wrote with a friend that has a little more on this issue.

Although there are parts of the article I don’t agree with I think you may find it interesting.

The article can be found over here.

—-

Special thanks to Anon Anonymous for her assistance.

Solution for the ‘Shidduch Crisis’

Once when Mark Twain was lecturing in Utah, a Mormon acquaintance argued with him o­n the subject of polygamy. After a long and rather heated debate, the Mormon finally said, “Can you find for me a single passage of Scripture which forbids polygamy?” “Certainly,” replied Twain. “‘No man can serve two masters.’”

ProfK posted a really long compilation of statistics to prove that indeed, there are more men than women around, skip the fluffy ‘generation gap’ explanation. Reams of numbers and statistics are always impressive, so I’ll be impressed.

Well, it seems to me that there’s a logical solution to “more men than woman”, and it’s not through paying men to marry women older than them. It’s an age-old practice and it’s called polygamy.

The cherem outlawing polygamy for Jews has, I believe, expired. So the only thing holding us back is civil law, an issue I’m sure can be dealt with. (Cults get away with it all the time…)

The beauty of polygamy is that it will actually reverse the “crisis”. First of all, it opens the shidduch scene to include married men. Immediately, that will fix the ratio problem. And since the ratio of men to women is nowhere near 2:1, if every second man marries two wives, there will, very soon, be less women than men looking to get married. Girls, instead of chasing men, will get chased. Within a single generation, women will have the luxury of sifting through lists of applicants to select the most favorable potential spouse. Nirvana!

In order to make this work, we just need some women to take the plunge on behalf of their sisthren. (Or whatever the equivalent of brethren is.) I would say sacrifice, but who says it is one? Can’t know unless you’ve tried it, right? Polygamy is an institution that has existed around the world for generations. It can’t be worse than being an old maid. With all the other shidduch crisis activism going on, isn’t it time we gave polygamy a spin?

Post below if you’re willing to join a new initiative based on the ideals of the past. When we get a staff together, I’ll commission a nice, .org website. JewishSpinstersForPolygamy.org or DaysOfYoreDating.org have a nice ring to them, I think.

Coming soon: where the 10% came from

Hang in folks for the answer you’ve all be waiting for: how did the Shidduch Initiative folks come to the 10%? Bad4Shidduchim (with some help from Anon Anonymous) has done some investigating – or anyway, question-asking. I hope to have the answer edited for posting by noon.

Shidduchim II

Advertised in big pink letters on the back of today’s Hamodia: Shidduchim II! From stalemate to checkmate to soulmate.

When I first saw it I imagined it would be a blockbuster drama along the lines of Rabbis 2. No such luck. It was another shidduch initiative. Nearly all the speakers are women and the advertisement was pink so I imagine it’s for the female half; so why it’s on a Tuesday night when 1/3 of the target population is in Touro College I don’t know.

Anyway, has anyone ever been to one of these… Shidduch Expos? It sounds to me rather like a career fair. You walk around from booth to booth with your stack of resumes, give the person behind the table your 30-second elevator pitch, leave a resume, and then move on to another. When you get bored, there are workshops/speeches about job searching/shidduchim intended to inspire and motivate.

I can’t decide if I dislike the idea or not. It seems to be just one more step towards turning the business of getting married into… business. On the other hand, it is another potential way for people to make matches. And yet, how can a shadchan who meets 50 young ladies in a night remember anything about any of them in order to set them up? Then again, at least they’ll have them on file to shuffle through, right?

One thing I do know: I would probably blush if I met anyone I knew there.  Good thing I’ll be in macroeconomics class.

Field Guide to Newly Engaged Friends

The newly Engaged Friend (amicus betrothus) is an entirely different species from the Single Friend (amicus singularus). Single Friends have diverse characteristics, but in general their conscious states are fully present, their habits are relatively reliable, and they have a stable personality.

Upon engagement, however, the Single Friend goes through an astounding transformation. The Engaged Friend lapses into a dreamy state of semi-consciousness at frequent, albeit unpredictable, intervals. These catatonic states may be triggered by anything that reminds the Friend of her significant other; however, almost everything does.

For the same reason, the Engaged Friend will begin many sentences with, “My chosson says…” or “I was talking about that with my chosson…” This is simply continuity from the state of Almost Engagement, when the Almost Engaged Friend frequently says things like, “Someone told me…” and “I was just talking about that with someone…”

The Engaged Friend looks at her hands a lot. She enjoys the sight of her wrist and ring finger. The bracelet is good for playing with in class, while the ring… well, it keeps flashing light in her eyes. She is not yet used to these new adornments, so they get in the way and catch her eye frequently. It is totally accidental that they also catch your eye frequently.

The Engaged Friend soon ceases to talk about tests, pizza, and shoe shopping. Her mind is cluttered with a new set of interests: entrees, white sneakers, professional makeup jobs, and basements for rent. Any attempt to engage her interest in something as mundane as her term paper will inevitably land her in the aforementioned catatonic state.

This is why amicus betrothus is often mistaken for amicus unreliablus. If you want something done right, do it yourself. If you want it done in general, find a Single Friend. If you don’t want it to get done, but need someone else to carry the blame for not doing it, assign it to an Engaged Friend. She won’t notice it if anyone is mad at her anyway.

However, the most annoying habit of the Engaged Friend is doubtless her habit of repeating this promise:

“Me and my chosson are going to match up all our friends. I already have some ideas for you.”

This line has led to much polite smiling, eye-rolling, and attempted homicide (and occasionally, suicide) on the part of Single Friends. Therapists advise Single Friends to practice entering a catatonic state of their own whenever Engaged Friends begin any sentence with “Me and my chosson” to minimize the damage to their sanity….

 

- Excerpted from The Field Guide to Humanity by I. Nowemal

“Settling” versus Redefining

>>I’m with ProfK about the wording. I prefer “prioritize.” Instead of “settling” for second best, I may just redefine my view of Best.

…And maybe it’s time this stopped being a man’s world, considering that women are better at nearly everything now…<<

- Bas~Melech

While I’m not sure I’d go so far as to say that w0men are better at nearly everything now – I’m sure they’re good for things besides unscrewing tight jars and lifting heavy things -  Bas~Melech does have a point.

In the past, men still married women though they were technically “marrying down”. Wives had a different role back then. Now, wives are moving into the husband’s role, but the husbands haven’t moved into the wife’s. Perhaps we’re living through a crisis of social development. Maybe what we need to do is redefine what we expect from husbands.

I wonder if guys have anything to say on the subject? Hey, men, what do you think of the modern woman?

Overheard: Bad for Shidduchim

Overheard conversation:
“…that’s so nice. And what school are you in?”
“Bais Yaakov High School.”
“So you know Sarah Klein?”
“Sarah… you mean Miss Klein? Sure! Without her I would have flunked Math B!”
“Yes, she’s really a great teacher.”
“How do you know her?”
“Well, around 10 years ago she used to teach with me at Yeshiva Supermodern Day School.”
“Really? So not the type. She teaches at bais yaakovs now.”
“Yes, I know. She left because, well… she said it was bad for shidduchim.” (sigh)

And the moral of the story is… don’t rearrange your life for shidduchim.

Everyone Has a ‘Shidduch Crisis’

 

Anon613 defends the ‘pickiness’ of yeshivish woman who are more worldly than yeshivish men. Bas~Melech posted about how much more put-together orthodox women seem than their male counterparts. Which reminded me of a book I saw recently, which spurred this post…

In Thud! (a novel by Terry Pratchett) Sam Vimes come to after a particularly rough afternoon (he’s police chief in an unruly city) to find Death a few feet away, relaxing in a beach chair, reading a book, and sipping a pina colada.

“Am I dead?” asks Vimes.

“Not yet,” answers Death (a skeletal fellow in a black cloak with a scythe).

“So why are you here?” Vimes persists.

“Because you are having a near-Death experience,” Death explains patiently. “Therefore, unfortunately, I must have a near-Vimes experience.”

When a guy wants to get married, he has to meet many girls. When a girl want to marry, she has to meet lots of guys. Perforce, we must have near-each-other experiences. Unfortunately, there are many times when one wishes it wasn’t necessary. Times when you think, “Who is this creature, and what planet exiled him here?”

When you’ve spent most of your life segregated from men, they can seem like a different species. Today, perhaps more than ever before, they are.

In the chareidi/yeshiva world especially, many girls are put off by guys who lack polish, ambition, worldliness, and sophistication. (“I want a guy who’s with-it. Not ‘with-it’, but ‘with it’, you know what I mean?”) Mostly veneer qualities, but important nonetheless.

But you know what? Even if too many yeshiva guys slurp their soup or couldn’t book a flight ticket without step-by-step directions, well, at least they have a passable excuse. I mean, what do you expect from men raised in the cloisters by other men away from the civilizing influence of their mothers from the tender age of 13? And where they’re told that no ambition is the best ambition? And away from the great wide world and everything in it? So there’s hope for them. They may be clueless, but many are willing to learn.

Not so in the great wide world.

There’s a growing buzz of worry in the secular community about “what’s with our boys?” In other words: why are girls doing better in high school than boys? Why are more women than men pursuing degrees? Why are even more women than men graduating with degrees? Why are so many guys still living with their parents at the ripe old age of 30 and playing MMORPGs for 40 hours a week? Some have attributed the plummeting rate of marriage (50% drop since 1970) to the fact that women don’t like to marry down (pdf link), and there are fewer people for them to marry up to (non-pdf alt).

In other words: the entire world has a shidduch crisis on its hand.

All because those guys can’t get their act together.

So, is it about time the women learned to ’settle’?

Oh, you’re single? I didn’t know… I’m so sorry!

I have a terminal illness. Well, almost. Being single isn’t deadly and it can be cured by the kiss of Prince Charming, but from the way some people act you’d think I had a week left.

They’re so annoyingly sensitive!

I hate sensitive people. It’s so insensitive to be sensitive to someone. Who wants too feel that they’re a nebach case who needs to be treated sensitively? I’m a well-adjusted human being. I can handle knowing that you are married and I’m not.

I’m talking about those married friends. We’re all sitting around yapping, and naturally they start talking about how to feed husbands or change diapers. Sometimes I can contribute anyway—I’ve got comments and suggestions for the former and nephews to compete with the latter—and sometimes I just listen because it’s interesting. Really.

And everything is all cozy and friendly until someone notices me looking pensive and says, “Oh! Let’s talk about something else.”

Everyone freezes and looks my way. They get that round-eyed and parted-lips “Oh…”-look and then the eyebrows-together “How could we be so awful?”-look. Someone says, “Sorry.” And incredibly, she means it.

“For what?” I ask.

“Well, you know, for talking about…” she hesitates to say the word married, lest it remind me of what I’m missing and cause me to burst into tears.

“Married people stuff?” I save her the trouble.

“Yeah,” she laughs. “You get so wrapped up in housekeeping you kind of forget the rest of the world, you know?”

“There is no rest of the world for you,” I say. “So go and talk about it. I’m perfectly capable of changing the subject if I want to.”

Doubtful looks all around. Now I’m insulted.

“What? Do you guys seriously think I’d let you talk about something that bores me?”

They grin at how ridiculous an idea that is, the tension breaks, and we move on.

 

My Shidduch-ville correspondent is a lonely young lady. At the ancient age of 21, she’s one of the last single girls her age left in Shidduch-ville. Already, the latest batch of post-seminary maidles are suddenly appearing in diamond bracelets and rings like someone has done a Cinderella job on them. And still, my Shidduch-ville correspondent has only her silver necklace and gold earrings from her bas mitzvah and graduation.

So every time she hears that another young schnook is getting married, she bursts into tears, runs to her room, and sobs uncontrollably into her pillow.

OK, she doesn’t. Instead, it tears a hole in her heart. She begins to indulge in self-pity, to doubt her character, to worry for her future… she puts on a brave face, but inside she’s a mess.

OK, not that either. Actually, she’s kind of happy that the desperate-to-get-hitched crowd is doing just that, and she vaguely hopes she’ll join them soon, but isn’t overly concerned about when, yet. Did I mention? She’s 21.

Last week her neighbor, two years younger and just off the plane, got engaged. Nobody told her about it.

Last week they held a l’chaim to celebrate. My friend didn’t hear about it.

Last week the engaged girl’s younger sister came around with a small printed invitation to the vort. Her mother hid the invitation away and didn’t tell her about it.

When my Shidduch-ville correspondent finally found out, she was… shall we say irritated? Not only was she the last one on the block to hear the good news, but nobody thought she had the emotional strength to hear the news and keep her equilibrium.

Hey people! We don’t need your pity! (Especially at our age.) You do your thing and let us cope. Don’t treat us like china dolls. It just makes us feel worse.

 

I think.

I’ve read blogs by people older than me and my correspondent and they talk about how insensitive people can be to their inner pain at still being single, etc. So question for the galleries:

In either of these scenarios, how would you want to be treated? Would you rather that people be ‘sensitive’, or would you rather be treated like a normal human being who has no ‘disability’?

Controversial: Is There a Shidduch Crisis?

Is there a shidduch crisis?

Oh how long I’ve thought about addressing this topic. Jacob’s post about the Shidduch Initiative finally drove me to it. I’ve noticed that many bloggers (including me) tend to put it in quotes. “Shidduch crisis.” Question: does it belong there?

In my humble and uneducated opinion, yessiree.

I don’t think I’m qualified to make a definitive statement that the shidduch situation today is better, worse, or the same as it ever was. But I don’t think anyone else is either.

I’m always amused when someone says, “So many tragedies these days!” There are no more tragedies today than there ever were. The only thing that changes is how many we notice. For example, soon after I started reading newspapers and listening to the radio, the number of murders, earthquakes, and political scandals in the world “multiplied” exponentially. When I got old enough to know people in shidduchim, the efficiency of the system “deteriorated” rapidly.

So the fact that people claim there’s an issue with shidduchim “today” doesn’t mean that there is one. Only that someone has decided to label it.

So, have there always been older singles? First of all, it seems reasonable to assume that there was never a 100% marriage rate. If Miriam bas Amram was single than anyone could have been single. The fact that marrying off children is discussed in such length in the Gemara suggests that it was not quite as easily done as giving away money on a street corner. And how many tales out of Europe revolve around poor girls who have no chance of wedding because they have no dowry or yichus?

My point? Marriage was always an issue. And the rate of non-marriage today may be no higher than it ever was.

So what is the shidduch “crisis” supposed to be? It’s two part:

1. Fewer singles are matching up
2. There are more spinsters than ever before

And the reasons put forth to explain this mysterious development?

One is that singles today are pickier than ever before. They won’t stand for being set up with a stranger and living happily ever after. They want good looks, money, and love.

My response: haven’t couples always been that way? What man doesn’t want a beautiful wife? What woman doesn’t want someone she’s proud of?

Consider Miriam, Moshe Rabbeinu’s sister. A classic “older single.” Nobody wanted to marry her because she was wasn’t pretty. Even the chance of getting the national leader as a brother-in-law couldn’t entice any of the 600,000 males between 20 and 60 to hitch themselves to an ugly woman. And if a tanah had to chain his daughter’s ankles together to force her to take small, ladylike steps because nobody would marry a striding woman… That problem we don’t have. In other centuries the superficiality centered on money or bloodlines. But there’s always been something.

Another reason given is that “there are more good girls than good boys.” This is a bizarre concept.

For starters: what defines a good boy? Perhaps our definition is too narrow?

And aren’t “good” and “bad” relative terms? I mean, don’t the “bad” boys consider themselves perfectly good? So maybe the “crisis” is restricted to a specific segment of society that has a surfeit of female members? If so, why is that?

Next: if, indeed, there are more good girls than good boys, then the shidduch crisis should be reversed for “bad” boys; there should be more bad boys trying to marry than bad girls. Is this the case? Or by “bad” and “good” do we mean “loserish” and “educated” and this is another way of saying that women feel like they have to marry down?

The third reason presented is the pyramid scheme. Every successive generation is larger than the previous one. If we assume that every generation is 49% male and 51% female (that’s the statistics), then every successive generation has an almost equal but larger amount of each gender. Since men start dating in their early to mid twenties, and girls start dating in their late teens early twenties, the theorem states that there are always more girls available per boy because their generation is larger than the one they are marrying into.

The problem with this theory: First of all, generations are measured in scores of years—that is, sets of twenty. Between 19 and 24 is five years. That’s not a generation gap. That isn’t enough time for a serious discrepancy in numbers to occur.

Second of all: the marriage pyramid is nothing new. Women have been marrying up and men marrying down since the dawn of time. (Even Chava was younger than Adam!) So if the “crisis” is something new to our times, this can’t be the cause.

I would like to posit that if there is a Shidduch Crisis, it isn’t as huge as we’d like to believe. I suspect it seems worse because of how the system works – like asking the guys first and overdoing the pre-checkout details. These things create the illusion of lines of desperate girls and innumerable rejections. Additionally, there’s the idiotic labeling of any spinster over 22 as “older”. This creates the illusion of a vast number of “older” singles. Throw it all together and you have hordes of desperate older singles being rejected for superficial reasons.

Am I crazy? Or is everyone else?

Would You Go Out with this Guy?

While I usually go for creative content, this is redo of an email someone sent me. It just seemed too fun to pass up. And it matches Miss Teacher’s post of a letter about judging people by the wrong information.

Question: would you go out with any of these people?

Mr. Perfect #1: He’s a BT, and his father was involved in an Eastern polytheistic religion. He’s been involved in umpteen political disputes – must be a strange bird – and his brother committed suicide.

Mr. Perfect #2: His grandfather worshipped idols. His father married someone 40 years younger than himself – something odd there. His mother is from a treifeh home, his twin brother went off the derech, and he spent many of his formative years working for his uncle, a professional con artist. Makes you wonder about his chinuch.

Mr. Perfect #3: His father is a BT whose other wife was a shiksa, so his half-brother is an Arab. His mother had some medical issues – we don’t know what they are but she was childless for years – could be genetic. And she died very suddenly after her husband tried to kill their son. Do you really want to get involved in that kind of family?

Mr. Perfect #4: His mother died young – they won’t say of what. His middos are suspect and have led to him being alienated from his family. He was arrested and thrown in jail for attacking a woman (of course he claims he’s innocent), and his great-grandfather was a hardcore member of a weird cult.

Mr. Perfect #5: His parents divorced and then remarried – can you imagine? His sister is still single – must be something wrong with her. He was a preemie. He never got speech therapy and you can barely understand what he says. His parents abandoned him when he was a baby and he was adopted by non-Jews. He turned against them, killed a man, and would have received capital punishment if he hadn’t run away. And nobody really knows what he did in all those years before he came back…

Mr. Perfect #6: He’s descended from a geyores – and not necessarily a kosher one, if you hold by a different rav. He’s not very sophisticated: spends most of his time playing music to the sheep. He has the look of a born killer – there’s just something about him… And though they won’t release his record, the government doesn’t chase after someone like that for nothing.

Mr. Perfect #7: His mother was once caught davening in the Mishkan while drunk – they tried to hush it up but everyone knows. The children of her co-wife, who used to bait her, all died mysteriously quite suddenly soon after. And his mother gave him up when he was only three.

You’ve probably figured them out, but, in order: Avraham, Yaakov, Yitzchok, Yosef, Moshe, Dovid, Shmuel.

Shidduch Euphemisms

 

I used to be naïve and think that words meant what they sounded like or what the dictionary said they meant. I used to think that what people said was what they meant. But in shidduch dating, key words are laden with more meaning than Webster would know what to do with. So much is said between the lines that the pages are mostly blank!

 

Take “nice”. I’ve been told that “nice” is the alarm bell for “lacks personality.” Meaning, if someone calls you “nice” it means there’s nothing else to say about you.

 

I find that odd because I have a brother who, if I had to sum him up in one word, it would be “nice.” Seriously: the word was made up for him. He is kind, considerate, always looking out for others’ welfare, he truly likes everyone, he’s honest but never cruel… And he’s not trying, or anything—he’s genuine. He’s just a really nice guy. There’s no other way to say it. (Except maybe “super-mentch”.) So I guess it’s good nobody contacted me about him for shidduch questions. I would have said “He’s so nice.”

 

Then there is “open-minded.”

“Whatever you do, do not put open-minded on your shidduch profile thingy,” one friend informed me.

“Why not?” I asked, all greenhorn innocence.

“Because, like, well, let me put it this way. When you say you’re open-minded, what do you mean? You mean, like, that you like all Jews and you totally don’t think any one derech is better than another, and you don’t think non-Jews are like totally evil, and you think about new ideas instead of just laughing at them, and stuff like that, right?”

“Right.”

“Well guess what darling, I have news for you. The guys who write ‘open-minded’ about themselves? They’re, like, open to a new lifestyle. One that doesn’t necessarily include, like, halacha and things. And you don’t want that type, believe me. I totally went out with enough of them before someone clued me in.”

 

And don’t you love “well maybe a bit pudgy”? How can you know what to trust when people exaggerate like that? One wonders what description they use for people who are a bit pudgy. Skinny, probably. And thin people – that would make them emaciated. Let’s be dan likaf zechus. The reason men ask for dress sizes specifically is because it’s the only objective indicator available in a world of liars.

 

Then there is the way someone answers. If they say, “I don’t know,” it either means, “I really don’t know,” or it means, “I really don’t want to talk about that because it’s not pleasant.” You’ve got to hope that your parents are on top of the vocal inflections that impart the exact meaning.

 

And age! I always knew that women are titchy about revealing their age, but I never knew that it starts before marriage. I recently heard that a woman never ages beyond 21 until she’s married, while men rarely surpass 25. I suppose it works until the wrinkles set in.

 

There are doubtless more that I’m missing.

Something about this system strikes me as ah shtickel off, but I can’t quite put my finger on what…

Shidduch Musical: Act 1 Scene 1

A long while back aidel knaidel blogged about how she’s just back from seminary, literally just off the plane, and not even dating yet, but she can already feel the eyes evaluating her and the pressure building to get married. Poor girl—she was astounded.

And I? I felt like throwing an arm around her shoulder and, with the world-weariness of someone with two year’s more experience saying, “Welcome to our world.”

If life was a musical, that would be my cue to burst into song and dance, passing on my accumulated shidduch wisdom to the incoming generation in an Oscar-winning performance.

If life was a musical, I would also have my lines pre-written and choreographed for me. But it isn’t, so Aidel Knaidel had to wait while I sat down to write a song about shidduchim.

And a long wait it was. Let’s just say that my admiration for songwriters has grown over the past few weeks.

I initially decided to set it to the tune of a drinking song by the playwright Sheridan.

“Drinking song?” you ask, wrinkling your nose. Perhaps you forget that the American national anthem is also set to the tune of a drinking song. Astonishing, really. Here we have a national anthem so difficult to sing that most people can’t manage it while sober, yet in the 18^th century they sang it while drunk.

Must be yeridas hadoros.

But anyway, the charm of Sheridan’s song is it’s incongruity to the shidduch process—the singers are just so open and unpicky.

I got about as far as the chorus, and then what poetic skills I have proved less than a match for the task. So there’s no song; there’s just a poem. If anyone wants to set it to music and send me the sound clip, I’ll upload it. And if anyone wants to try their hand at a gentlemen’s version, I’d welcome that too. But otherwise… here it is:

Welcome to Shidduchim, Ladies

They call you ‘available’ with a knowing smile
You’re ‘on the market’ (this lingo’s not tricky)
You may rot if you stay on the shelves for a while,
So if you’re smart, you won’t be too picky.

Come meet Aunt Sadie and third cousin Dan
Smile at the woman in black
Tell her what you want, your life and your plan
If you’re lucky she might call you back.

You step off the plane
The world’s gone insane
“My daughter in the ‘parsha’” – that’s your new name.

Look in that mirror for more than a flash
Take the time: primp and preen!
Even if you’re going to take out the trash
They’re looking, and you might be seen.

You try every fad diet and hope one won’t fail
For your waistline must certainly shrink
Your wardrobe’s expanding with each Macys sale
The bills drive your father to drink.

You can’t know who
Will reference for you
So impress all your neighbors and their dogs too.

You now know your “type,” can fill out forms like a pro
And check off your prefs with efficiency
And his type, appearance, background—all this you know
For you must know exactly how he should be.

Write down your info in a resume
Keep a copy at all times in your purse
You never know who will be the one to know him—
A banker, street sweeper, or nurse.

In the shidduch game
You must spread your name
“Available maidel” is your claim to fame.

Don’t write a novel, don’t win the Nobel Peace Prize
Don’t end war, crime, hate—anything
Be a good girl and don’t catch any eyes
Don’t stand out ‘til you’ve got that ring.

Officially you were not toilet trained at four
Officially your parents are wealthy
Officially your grandfather was the gadol hador
Officially your family is healthy.

The things you must do
To get a date or two
Not sure your sanity will all make it through.

“So when’s it your turn?” ask the ladies in black.
“How are things going?” they wink.
“Your wedding should be what next brings us back,”
“In the right time—and faster than you think.”

The shadchan knows more about you than your own kin
Strangers gawp at your mug shot
There’s only one way out of this mess that you’re in—
Get yourself tied up with that wedding knot.

Don’t you just miss
That pre-shidduch bliss?
But if it’s this or be single—you’d rather this!

So welcome to shidduchim, post-seminary girl,
Like us, you’re a catch—a real prize.
You’re a wonderful gem, a diamond, a pearl
Just find the one guy who’ll realize.

Shidduch Lists (revisited)

Mickey Mouse’s comment about lists was an eye-opener. Because she’s probably right. As females, we’re used to looking at lists as the embodiment of the dehumanization process that is shidduchim. We hiss about cattle markets and mutter about waiting in line and grumble about a shortage of men and growl about grocery shopping… But as Mickey Mouse points out, it really has nothing to do with any of those. Since men get first call at approving or disapproving a shidduch, they naturally have more options to sift through. Females only have to deal with the proposals that make it through the strainer of men.

 

In other words: somebody has to have the list. The question is, who?

 

Quite frankly, I’m perfectly happy leaving the lists to the men. It’s difficult enough thinking about the few “filtered” suggestions I have; I don’t want to have to evaluate and decide the fate of hordes of men. It’s an extremely time-consuming and headache-inducing the process, if I can judge by my brother. If knowing that I’m on someone’s list is the price I have to pay for peace of mind and spare time to blog… well, it’s one I’m willing to pay.

 

And, ironically, the men now have my sympathy. Paradigm shifts are funny things.

 

PS: ProfK suggests that the process would be more efficient and streamlined if the women were asked first. IMHO, that would work for around a year, while everyone is still convinced that there are more girls than boys. Beyond that, women and their parents are no less busy than men and their parents. What do you think?

Shidduch Revenge

Maybe we’re equal, but we’re treated very differently. Have you noticed? I tried to compile a list of ways to game the system based on the different expectations for men and women, but it quickly degenerated into ways to keep a bad date interesting. Any ideas?

1. Ask for his suit size.

He asks for your dress size, why can’t you ask for his suit size? No reason you should be shocked to discover that your “just a drop plump” date is an earth-shaker, right? It should be a two-weigh street.

2. Take up smoking.

Orthodox Jewish girls don’t smoke. They just don’t. Nobody would even dream of asking if you do, so it’s one vice you can safely enjoy.

3. Add him to you list.

Whenever someone calls with a suggestion, make a big deal about how you’re quite occupied, but you’ll add him to your list. Then casually ask what sort of fellow is he? Naturally, they’ll laud the ‘best bochur’ to the skies, and you’ll promise to do your best to move him up your list and get back to them. (This will have the added effect of making you seem more desirable by lack of availability.)

4. Stack but don’t scrape.

The question goes: “Does she scrape and stack?” What if the answer was, “She takes the middle derech”?

5. Have bitachon.

Ever wonder if the “forever learner” you’re dating is sincere or just lazy? Remind him that he’s relying on the derech of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochei, which consists of learning and waiting for the manna to fall. Enthuse about how nice it will be to live close to Hashem, living on carobs and water and wearing sand, just like the tanah. Alternatively: tell him you play the lottery for hishtadlus.

If you don’t like him: tell him you’ve decided that since you’re taking on the curse of Adam in addition to that of Chava, you want to go lifnim miyshuras hadin and accept that of the snake as well. (The view ain’t great, but dinner has never been simpler.)

6. Ask the lemon-in-coke question.

If you order a diet coke that come with a lemon in it, ask the guy why you’re allowed to drink it, since the lemon was cut with a non-kosher knife. Chances are 10 to 1 he won’t know the answer. If he handles the embarrassment well, ask him out again. If he knows the answer, definitely ask him out again.

7. Use big words.

If he says epis or mamish once too often, start throwing in words like “sartorial” and “capricious.”

What’s your opinion on lists?

ProfK is conducting a survey: what do you think of guys having lists?

Additionally, would you be willing to take a vow to never let yourself be put on a list? If you’re male, will you vow to have no lists?

You can tell her what you think over here. You can also tell me what you think below.

What Do I Want? What’s Right for Me

Follow-up on two posts back (don’t worry, lighter fare again tomorrow):

OK, here’s my guess at the real reason Mrs. Mother is nervous. Bad4Shidduchim does not seem to have decided what she wants to do with her life.

And she’s right. Because I haven’t. I have no definite plans to become a rebbetzin or a CEO. I have no hard and fast answer to “what are you looking for.”  Because I don’t have answers.

What she doesn’t know (because it isn’t done to speak to me directly) is that my lack of decision is a conscious decision of its own. I refuse to invest myself in a specific lifestyle.

Umpteen times in life I’ve invested myself in a particular choice, be it a yearbook job, a high school, a summer job, a seminary, a college, a day job, etc., etc. And every time I really got involved and put in my greatest effort to make what I wanted succeed, it didn’t. And I was forced to accept what I considered second best. In retrospect, knowing more about the options, the ”second best” that I was forced into was better for me. But at the time, I was just disappointed (sulky, actually) and convinced I was getting the worse deal. Clarity comes with time.

Before I go further: the last person I mentioned this too accused me of “being negative.” I’m not. It actually pleases me to know that God’s keeping an eye on what I do and preventing me from messing up too badly.

Marriage is more important than seminary or a summer job. The sort of person you marry and the lifestyle you take on will affect the rest of your life. I don’t want to go into that life disappointed, thinking I’m getting the second best option. That’s just a terrible way to start out. So I refuse to start chasing any particular lifestyle – I’m bound to get it wrong and be left with a “but what if…?” At this point in life I can confidently say that I don’t know what’s right for me, but Hashem clearly does. So he can take the reins and drive my coach. Yeah, I’ll do the required hishtadlus, but nothing more. I refuse to invest myself in it, because that way lies disappointment. Rather, I’ll take what life throws at me and roll with the punches.

Hashem: you want me single right now? Fine with me. And a great single I’ll be. You want me paired up with a kollel guy? I’ll be the happiest kollel wife this side of the Atlantic. Offering me a working man? Then I’ll be an awesome mother. That promising fellow isn’t interested? Guess he wasn’t for me. Want me single for life? No problem – I’ll find something constructive to do. Want me married next week? Yessir! Well… actually… can it wait ’til after finals?

And I guess that’s a good deal of what I want to say in this blog. Even if you can’t plot it on a chart, incident by incident, your life is guided by Hashem. So why get all upset when things don’t go how you think they should? Do your part and let Him take care of the rest. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the scenery. You only live once. Don’t waste precious moments crying for what you can’t have.

Want what you get – it’s been chosen by Someone who is never wrong.

Off Topic: NaNo

November is National Novel Writing Month. The goal: write about 2,300 words a day toward your 50k word novel.

If you have a novel lurking in your head somewhere, this is the month to get it out.

And if you do publish something after this reminder? Remember me in the dedications.

*Disclaimer: See comments for details on how publishing a novel may affect your shidduch chances.