I was explaining to a college classmate that I only date other Orthodox Jews. “So,” I concluded, “I’m going to be single for a while.”
He chuckled. “Maybe you shouldn’t be so hard on them.”
I stared. Then I smiled. I mean, he’d just called me picky. Can you think of a higher compliment? To be told that the only reason you’re still single is that you’re too picky.
I’ve told friends to stop being so picky. Generally, what I mean is “Pal, you’re gorgeous, brilliant, gracious, and witty. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t consider a guy who isn’t tall, dark, handsome, rich, brilliant, and of course, a Torah scholar.”
It seems to me that we all have a list of traits we want, most of which don’t usually seem to come together in the same package. If half my friends seem to have unrealistic expectations, perhaps I do too. But honestly, most of the time the breakup is mutual. I don’t think I’ve left a string of broken hearts behind me.
Still, it’s nice that someone thinks I could have.
WotWentWrong exists because, it seems, I’m not the only person who goes on perfectly amiable dates and doesn’t get another one after. Sometimes you just wonder, why?
Not that I’d ever wonder to the point of asking, though. Not directly, and not through some third-party website. Heck, I rarely bother to ask the shadchan.
Still, the idea is there. This website has set itself up as a shadchan for the masses, ready to relay messages back and forth between parties, ranging from, “Let’s step this up a notch” to “If you would eat your soup instead of shoveling it, dinner dates with you would be much more enticing.” Except they promise to be more polite.
Good idea? Not? Who knows. I’ll never use it because I tend to have a shadchan involved. Would you?
PS: Do you think these guys set this up just so they could read people’s absurd, broken-hearted emails to each other?
Setting: Lunchtime in the cafeteria at work. Bad4 is sitting with a pair of finance managers and explaining how she wound up in the neighborhood she wound up in.
Finance Manager 1: So, you’re Jewish?
Finance Manager 2: So are you hoping to find a nice Jewish boy out here?
BAd4: choking noise followed by coughing. Um, no. I think that’s a lost cause.
For the third time in my life, I found myself explaining to a colleague why I won’t date a non-Jew. It was my fourth time running through it (once I had to do it on behalf of another orthodox girl in college whose identity I still don’t know), so I condensed it into one convincing but diplomatic line. Nothing against his friend who sounds like a great guy—this is just how it is. But I was beginning to note a pattern.
Non-Jewish men with strong values dig orthodox women.
Yes, ladies. There are guys out there who think you are hot stuff. Your aidelkeit catches their eye and they like what they see.
Okay, I’m laughing. I mean, I’m not exactly the prototype aidel bais Yaakov maidel. Not for lack of trying—I really gave it a shot once. But it just didn’t take. Still, compared to my colleagues, I’m the picture of sweetness and modesty. Also, I’m nice, friendly, kind, thoughtful, considerate, generous, and good with kids.
Oh wait, this isn’t my shidduch profile. Scratch that.
Anyway, this little discovery was a boost to my self-esteem. In addition to the demographic of men over the age of 50, it turns out I am also of interest to non-Jewish men with strong family values. At this rate of discovery, I might find a Jewish demographic to date by the time I’m 30. Hey, they must be out there.
Has anyone else had to field feelers from non-Jewish colleagues?