A would-be shadchan called my mother about a prospective date.
“Can you fax me Bad4’s profile and a picture?”
My mother made reluctant noises. She doesn’t like this whole “send a photo” business.
“He’s looking for a really beautiful girl, so he needs to see a picture first,” the shadchan explained.
At this point I would have terminated the conversation, saying that the only person who consistently refers to me as beautiful is my grandmother, and she has both a great deal of bias and cataracts. But my mother, bless her, is more zealous for my pride, and she continued the conversation, asking about the young man. He is in college and yeshiva and plans to go to law school.
“Well, I’ll ask my daughter,” my mother said. “Can you provide a profile and a photograph?”
“What do you need a photograph for?” asked the would-be shadchan, baffled.
“Just to know what he looks like,” replied my mother vaguely.
“That’s not how it’s done,” the shadchan worried. “She’ll see him plenty on the first date.”
“True, but she may not want to, if he’s lacking in visual appeal.”
“I just wouldn’t feel comfortable asking him,” the shadchan fretted. “I don’t think he’d be willing.”
My mother insisted.
“This is very unreasonable of you.”
“Well, then I’m afraid he’s just not for us,” my mother said regretfully, and that was that.
You go, Ma!