Lost in Translation

"I do shidduchim," she says proudly. 

For a brief moment, I experience a naive flutter of expectation. 

"Are you interested in singles events?" she continues eagerly. 

The flutter morphs into the creepy-crawlies. 

"No, not really." 

"Oh, I totally understand. The typical singles events are the worst. No one talks to each other, only one girl or one guy gets mobbed. But this is different: a speed dating event!" she concludes with a dramatic flourish.

Nope, no improvement. So instead of spending an evening fending off unwanted advances (and being ignored by anyone potentially intriguing), now I would be forced to have conversation with those I am trying to avoid. 

"Look, I've done those Shabbos-meal-things—"

She shakes her head in derision. "No, no, those are terrible!"

I blink. Why are they terrible? She didn't let me finish my point, and I wasn't going to say that. I was going to say that in essence, those Shabbos-meal-things aren't much different from speed dating, and it is actually less awkward. Since the whole table interacts, everyone gets a feel for what everyone else is like without shoving two people together at a table and demanding polite chit-chat. 

"How about simply setting up a date?" 

"Well, that's difficult," she says with a defeated shrug. "The guys don't want to go on dates." 

If a guy has any hope of marriage, yet refuses to date, chances are none in your roster is for me. Unless that is the excuse being peddled around nowadays by those who arranged explosive evenings and were then blacklisted?

Do I have to, once again, define what "shadchan" means?

That Book/Cover Thing

I am not happy about the current age of shidduch-photo requesting. I stopped fighting it, however, from sheer exhaustion, but I believed that it reflects the negative shallowness that seems to have crept over frum dating life. 

But an article about Tinder ("Tinder Taps an Age-Old Truth" by Nick Bilton), the photo-based dating app, reports that the data doesn't necessarily reflect pairings based on skin-depth alone.

“Research shows when people are evaluating photos of others, they are trying to access compatibility on not just a physical level, but a social level,” said Jessica Carbino, Tinder’s in-house dating and relationship expert. “They are trying to understand, ‘Do I have things in common with this person?’ ”

. . . She discovered that Tinder users decoded an array of subtle and not-so-subtle traits before deciding which way to swipe. For example, the style of clothing, the pucker of the lips and even the posture, Ms. Carbino said, tell us a lot about their social circle, if they like to party and their level of confidence.

Tinder also conducted studies to try to glean more insight into users’ behaviors. In one survey, women were asked to swipe through a series of photos of handsome male models. In almost every instance, the women swiped to the left, dismissing the men with chiseled faces. When asked why, the women said that the men looked too full of themselves or unkind. “Men with softer jaw lines indicate that they have more compassion,” Ms. Carbino said.

Some frum male profiles actually possess photos; for those that don't, there is sometimes an online presence that can be scrutinized. Much can be gleaned by a picture. 

“There is this idea that attraction stems from a very superficial outlook on people, which is false,” Mr. Rad said. “Everyone is able to pick up thousands of signals in these photos. A photo of a guy at a bar with friends around him sends a very different message than a photo of a guy with a dog on the beach.”

As a female, I sometimes wonder if single guys realize that their photos are being squinted at by eligible women; they don't seem to have tried that hard, or are they perhaps intentionally defiant, daring the world to hold their over-casual, shlumpy demeanor against them?

Then the über-dude, all peace signs and flipped-up collars.  

 

One very telling move: Cropping off the top of their head, removing any sign of a yarmulka. Interesting.

Back to the data: The fairest aren't pursued the most.

Earlier this year Paul W. Eastwick, an assistant professor of human development and family sciences at the University of Texas at Austin, and Lucy L. Hunt, a graduate student, published a paper noting that a person’s unique looks are what is most important when trying to find a mate.

“There isn’t a consensus about who is attractive and who isn’t,” Mr. Eastwick said in an interview. “Someone that you think is especially attractive might not be to me. That’s true with photos, too.” Tinder’s data team echoed this, noting that there isn’t a cliquey, high school mentality on the site, where one group of users gets the share of “like” swipes.

I'm still not ecstatic about the prevalence of shidduch photos, but then again, I've never used them to gauge sculptured noses, but to take in the type of image he wants to present. It is quite informative. 

Due Diligence

"Oh, I have RoC, it doesn't do anything." 

"But do you actually put it on? Every single night?" 

Silence. 

Yes, it is a royal pain in whatever part of the anatomy that you prefer, but if one has the future remotely in their sights, the only way to successfully route wrinkles, hyperpigmentation, and other signs of aging is with a skincare routine. 

The sad but indelible fact of the matter is, our skin won't be bouncing back forever. Without regular application of SPF, damage can accumulate and then rear its ugly head. Simply purchasing a night cream is certainly not enough, nor is applying it sporadically.

Americans aren't a patient people. We want quick and simple, even if that means getting injections that make us look as though we're recovering from an allergic reactions to peanuts. 

Five minutes in the morning (SPF) and five minutes at night (wash and cream) can mean a world of difference thirty years down the road.

Don't come crying to me because you wouldn't slap on a little AHA before bed.   

No Yams

"No. No way. I could never, ever do that." 

Ma had been explaining to her the Rambam method, which decrees no fruit after meals. 

"You won't believe the results!" 

"Nada. Niet. NEVER." 

But a few months later, Ma gets a call: "I want you to know," she said, "I'm doing the Rambam diet, the one you told me about." 

When Hashem introduces Himself to Moshe, He says, "I AM that I AM." 

Upon consideration, this description is quite apt. Hashem is One. He is Unchanging. What He was, He is, He will be are all the same. He IS what He IS.

If the most supreme Being describes Himself thusly, then us puny humans cannot claim that same title, bound by time and change as we are. 

As yoga claims (and as my aching muscles testify), micro-movements lead to colossal change. Rabbi Akiva, as yet unlearned and unlettered, gazed upon water and stone comprehended his own potential at 40.

Or, to quote Mustafa's admonishment to Simba: "You are more than what you have become." 

Hashem has no unrealized capabilities. Pop-Eye, even after spinach, could become much, much more.    

The Shoe Paradox

"Ow. Ow. Owowowow." 

I had worn these boots all day—flats, yet—and my feet had no reason to complain. But promptly as soon as they were put to work at a 7 pm outing, my toes, heels, soles, etc. began to yelp. 

We are living in the Shoe Dark Ages, I sadly informed Ma as we fruitlessly circled various department stores' shoe floors. Most pumps possess 3+ inch heels, too high for her comfort. Those that do sport reasonable heels are also dated in style: every angle is pointy, with sharpened edges that could double as a murder weapon. 

Then, if a magically perfect shoe is rapturously discovered, there is the comfort factor, which, of course, is never truly realized until the shoe has actually hit pavement and is thus rendered unreturnable. 

Joyce Wadler hysterically describes the shoe crisis in "Sound Like a Great Place, but Can We Get There by Shoe?" 

Your average high heels may feel comfortable in the store, where they put chemicals in the air to deaden pain, but they are not really designed for walking. Compound that problem by shopping for shoes when you are tired, and it’s like those submarine movies where the sailors are running out of oxygen and become delusional.

But the real sadness is that I shall not yet sacrifice form for function. There are the most stunning footwear in my closet marked with my blood, and I do intend to don them again if the situation should arise. Eh, what's a few hours of crippling agony. 

Well played, shoe industry. Well played.      

Snake Oil

"To the girl who wrote in last week about her struggle with shidduchim: Why doesn't she register on a dating website?" 

That seems to be the new go-to response: "Oh, no dates? Well, you're not doing your hishtadlus, duh. You have to go online." 

To clarify, I am not bashing online dating. It can be, for some, a viable option for those sinking in this dating quagmire. But when did it become a magic bullet? 

It's not like there is an overwhelming majority of newlyweds who met online. In terms of online frum success stories, I doubt the percentages are mind-blowing (although I don't have any numbers to prove my disbelief).

When one (such as myself) hits a dating drought, there is usually a sensation of helplessness, that I need to do something more. There are a number of sucky situations in life, one can find oneself in, and a typical knee-jerk reaction would be to seek some form of control.

The whole realm of bashert, by definition, is out of our hands. No matter how much I plot and plan, I cannot meet my one-and-only based on my efforts alone. While once we were admonished to avoid the whole "kochi v'otzem yadi" pride, bitchon is now the enemy of the single.

"Trust in Hashem is very nice and whatever, but you are obviously not doing sufficient hishtadlus."

Is online dating the next necessary step, following basic hygiene, in order to find one's bashert? I would say not. It is an option that can be selected from one's free will and comfort with the whole enterprise, but is it a biblical imperative? 

I was talking with a survivor, and I mentioned the term "hishtadlus"  in passing.

"What is hishtadlus?" she asked, brows furrowed. 

"Um, like, you do your part, and Hashem does the rest." 

She shrugged. "I've never heard that before." 

Huh. 

If a girl who is besought with frustration and loneliness seeks some sort of support, why can't responders simply be empathetic, instead turning the screw by heightening her own feelings of inadequacy? 

When it comes to empathy, singles tend to go into a separate category. I'll be the first one to say that the trials and tribulations of singlehood are pretty mild, and don't compare to other "crises," but is it so hard to fake sympathetic noises instead of throwing the internet as a cure-all in our faces?

"Drowning in a Birdbath"

Jews don't "suffer a witch to live." The question is, what really is "witchcraft" nowadays: is it dark, mystical forces or simply canny observation, à la Sherlock Holmes?

The tarot card reader, as I read in, uh, "The Tarot Card Reader" by Jessa Crispin, can simply be a storyteller, a means to putting a situation in the right perspective. The best line: 

“It’s like you’re drowning in a birdbath. Stand up, it’s just a birdbath.”  

A means to cope can be found in flipping the viewpoint; telling a story, focusing on all the players, not just on oneself, and the realization that the tale is not yet over—it brings calm. 

Sometimes you think you’re valiantly battling a dragon, but really you’re drowning in a birdbath.

We have more control than we think: We have the control to react in the best way possible. I try to think, when I think matters are difficult—in how long, a day, a week, a month, a year, a decade: Will I even remember this? It will be over. My bowels will have found something else to fret over. Gam zeh ya'avor. 

In crises, the focus is on self-survival. But in order to keep our balance, we must remember other people. By brushing them aside, we allow ourselves to get swallowed by own own agonies. We must take the fuller picture in. 

But then a woman came to me, flush from an affair. She wanted to talk about her new lover and how great it all was. I laid out the cards. The hierophant — a figure of holy wisdom — reversed. The king of swords, crossing the lovers. My client was represented by the grumbling, tyrannical emperor. I could see what the story was, but it wasn’t the happy one she had just told me. “This isn’t about your new lover,” I told her, and I could see her glow fade. “We have to talk about the marriage you are betraying.” It was a difficult, but valuable, conversation.

We, too, can utilize stories to see things anew.

Dressing for Men: Lunch Responsibly

Along my morning commute, I witness many a skullcapped man toting his lunch in a plastic kosher grocery store bag. The bag swings against his legs, banging against his knee, holding his tuna fish sandwich hostage in overly-bright, unprofessional ochre. 

I am a big fan of home lunch. It's fiscally responsible and good for the health. But there should still be some class involved.

If a chap is out in the world, he should have something non-nebby to carry his lunch, or any other items picked up in the course of a day. 

For the casual fellow, a modestly sized sling bag. 

For the casual professional, a messenger bag.

For the professional who knows it, a briefcase.

The main criteria is weight. The bag should be light. If it isn't, it's going to end up sitting in the closet rather than keeping one company on the subway. 

Just picture it: Walking briskly into one's place of business, a friendly wave to the secretary, bumping into the boss in the hallway, with a briefcase in hand, as opposed to . . . a crinkly plastic Target bag, damp with gathering condensation.   

Go For Your Own Sake

For most of my life, I was plagued with questions about why I do or don't do certain things, mostly because it wasn't the same as anyone else. 

I didn't like camp, or sleepovers, or floor length denim skirts that prevent movement.  

I liked long words, animals, and history class. 

Every once in a while, someone would ask why I was weird.  

Blessed with a strong ego, I felt no need to change. I just accepted that I was a freak, and left it at that. 

I then attended college after opting out of seminary (my principal wasn't happy, obviously) and spent quite some time (five years) defending that choice as well. Then I find myself explaining my choice of degree, and now my job. 

One day I looked around and noticed: We are free to do what we like. And plenty of people do just that. Then it hit me: We don't have to be the same. 

It's not that I am a single, solitary nutjob; the majority prefer to herd together into indistinguishable mass, but there are others who make their own choices and feel no need to defend themselves.

Rabbi Tvi Hersch Weinreb discussed this. His class was analyzing Avrohom's leaving of Charan. 

. . . a fascinating epigram attributed to the mid-19th century Hassidic sage, Rabbi Mendel of Kotzk:

If I am I because you are you,
And you are you because I am I,
Then, I am not I
And you are not you.

But, if I am I because I am I
And you are you because you are you
Then I am I
And you are you.

I cannot be myself if I am merely imitating you. That's just blind conformity. I have to find what is unique in me, what are my God-given gifts and talents, and I must express them. Then, I am I and can achieve my life's mission.

This is not a teaching with which all Jewish leaders would agree. But this was the view of the very creative Rabbi of Kotzk, and he was neither the first nor the last to assert this teaching.

We are supposed to do our own thing. 

. . . Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, and this is a quotation drawn from his extensive and erudite commentary on the Five Books of Moses:

"Lech Lecha literally means, ‘Go to yourself.’ Find your own path. Be ready to choose the lonely path which will separate you from your land, your birthplace, your father's home. Be ready to separate yourself from all the connections that you have formed to this point. Lech Lecha, go at it alone. If the ideology of the multitude is not true, be prepared to worship God alone. How would we, the Jewish people, have been able to exist, and how can we possibly continue to exist, had we not inherited from Abraham our father the courage to be in the minority, even in a minority of one?"

The Brilliance of Spacing Out

The Big Bang Theory, "The Einstein Approximation": 

Sheldon is hit by major physicist block. He obsesses, can't sleep, and becomes even more erratic and annoying than usual. He even creeps out at night and breaks into a Funzone, desperate for visual aids. 

Eventually, he concludes that his mistake is in overtaxing his brain; when Einstein was faced with the same frustration, he took a mind-numbing job at the patent office to allow his subconscious to breathe.

Penny, the starving actress who works as a waitress, is quite stunned to discover him in the restaurant, scurrying around as a busboy. And lo, he does achieve his elusive epiphany.

 

According to Daniel Levitin in "Hit the Reset Button in Your Brain," the television writers weren't making up this phenomenon.

But the insight that led to [harness fire, build the pyramids, discover penicillin and decode the entire human genome] probably came from the daydreaming mode. This brain state, marked by the flow of connections among disparate ideas and thoughts, is responsible for our moments of greatest creativity and insight, when we’re able to solve problems that previously seemed unsolvable. You might be going for a walk or grocery shopping or doing something that doesn’t require sustained attention and suddenly — boom — the answer to a problem that had been vexing you suddenly appears. This is the mind-wandering mode, making connections among things that we didn’t previously see as connected. 

From personal experience, I know that after spending too much time focusing too much on a problem, the solution suddenly pops into my head at the oddest (and oven most inconvenient) of times. 

However (I cannot ignore an opportunity to throw the smartphone under the bus) constant pings and chirps prevents that thought process. 

Every status update you read on Facebook, every tweet or text message you get from a friend, is competing for resources in your brain with important things like whether to put your savings in stocks or bonds, where you left your passport or how best to reconcile with a close friend you just had an argument with.

If you want to be more productive and creative, and to have more energy, the science dictates that you should partition your day into project periods. Your social networking should be done during a designated time, not as constant interruptions to your day.

Email, too, should be done at designated times. An email that you know is sitting there, unread, may sap attentional resources as your brain keeps thinking about it, distracting you from what you’re doing. What might be in it? Who’s it from? Is it good news or bad news? It’s better to leave your email program off than to hear that constant ping and know that you’re ignoring messages.

The so-called yet imaginary concept known as "multi-tasking"—it doesn't exist. 

Increasing creativity will happen naturally as we tame the multitasking and immerse ourselves in a single task for sustained periods of, say, 30 to 50 minutes. Several studies have shown that a walk in nature or listening to music can trigger the mind-wandering mode. This acts as a neural reset button, and provides much needed perspective on what you’re doing.

Want to solve problems? Put the phone on "Do Not Disturb" and go fold some laundry.