So, by now you’ve probably all seen the widely excoriated article in which an old Flatbush rabbi states that girls expire at age 20.
“If we didn’t tell these boys that girls expire at 20, they wouldn’t be so reluctant to date 21-year-olds,” someone complained to me. “You think these guys know what a size 4 dress means? Or a size 6? They don’t. They just absorb what they’re told by people like this.”
Then she told me this great story about “older” girls.
This guy was redt a shidduch to a great girl. He was warned that she was an “older” single, already 22, but really wonderful in every way and he should at least give it a try.
With great trepidation, he drives up to her house. He’s really nervous, because, well, she’s old, and he doesn’t want to be shallow but…
He rings the doorbell and she opens the door, and his heart sinks. She’s just… so old looking. Not that maturity doesn’t have its benefits but…
Bravely, he wishes her a good evening.
“Oh, Chani will be right down,” the older woman said. And as she spoke, a young, beautiful woman floated down the stairs in a haze of chiffon.
He was smitten at first sight. Two months later, he proposed to her. Three children later, they still laugh about the time he thought he was going to take her mother out for coke at the Marriott.
The Chani story is great. It sound too good to be true, but at least it seems truthy.
I hate when people use “expire” that way about a person. To expire (when referring to a person) is to breathe one’s last breath, AKA die.
This is why a lot of guys get married. They think it’s going to be hell and then they’re delighted to meet a Normal human their age who’s pretty and cool. I just saw it as hell and dropped out of the whole thing early, but I wonder if I had just stayed longer if my life would have turned out normal. Probably not I have family issues. But maybe.