Taxi!

Yet another dating term is making the IG rounds: the "taxi cab" or "yellow cab theory." First voiced by Miranda of that tv show, the premise is that a person (man) will commit to whoever is standing in front of them when they decide they are ready for a relationship. Meaning, it's not about the connection to the person they're committing to, it's about their own state of readiness. 

I don't deny that this definitely can happen, to some extent, but I believe it actually applies more to women than men. 

Women are, stereotypically, more geared towards commitment than men. I don't like claiming that one gender is a monolith, but little girls are raised with Bride Barbie, visions of their wedding, and awareness of their biological clock. Their purpose is to walk down the aisle, end of. No little boy dresses up as a chosson on Purim. 

Which does lead females to ignore red flags and overlook problematic behaviors. While there are an assortment of red flags and problematic behaviors, I really mean here is: he's just not that into you. 

Some men (I will not say all men, people are different) might drift along with a determined woman. She's willing the relationship into being, she's planning their future, and she's ignoring his lack of enthusiasm. Eventually, matters come to a head, and they part ways. 

The man then gets engaged to another in a matter of months. His ex, infuriated, may invoke the taxi cab: he's ready now, that's all. It wasn't about me.  

My take though, was that it was about you. He met someone else and ah! He's into her! You wanted him to be the One, but he wasn't. 

Note also that relationships require two people. Just because one person decides they are ready doesn't mean the other party will reciprocate. So this idea that a man is ready and suddenly he gets married—like, all women are falling into his embrace? Just by virtue of his readiness means that the next woman he trips over will automatically return his interest? Are all women just willing to marry any rando just to get off the market?   

Google "taxi cab theory" and hoo-eee, there are a lot of results. Apparently, a flippant line of dialogue ascribed to a character but obviously thought of by a script writer has been analyzed, debunked by experts, yet upheld by others.  

The reel that popped up in my feed was of a woman claiming that this theory is true because that's what happened to her: her long term relationship ended, the ex married shortly thereafter, then he called her up years later saying she was the one that got away. That doesn't mean the taxi theory is true. She doesn't know what his marriage is like. Maybe he's going through a mid-life crisis and decided to call up all his ex-girlfriends and sigh how unfair life is. 

I'm a reformed un-romantic. I used to think that marriage was about two people deciding to marry on a logical level—like Vulcans. But now, I believe that relationships are more than that, ideally. 

And your person, your specific person, is not a taxi.  

Logic and Love

This WSJ headline caught my eye, of course: Singles Are So Burned Out They’re Letting Spreadsheets Evaluate Their Dates by Molly Reinmann. 

The problem with dating apps is that there's no discernment; everyone is a possibility! From personal experience, that can get exhausting very quickly. 

"You become a little more willing to make compromises on things that you might not usually compromise on, just because you're so tired of searching," said Alyssa Tracy. 

Like I've been saying, frummies are not special in terms of our dating experiences.   

Former matchmaker Lily Womble says she has seen daters over-emphasize the data, causing them to minimize or numb the feelings they get in the presence of a potential partner. "Rigidity can actually be a shield against vulnerability," said Womble. 

It's not about being dogmatic. Frummies date for one purpose: marriage. But even so, a number of us can be let astray by a number of factors. The secular dating world runs by a very different timeline, and initial attraction can be mistaken for compatibility, while the relationship itself was on shaky ground to begin with. By analyzing data, singles are trying to make more intentional choices rather than letting one factor such as hotness run the show. 

For Peyton Knight . . . the rigidity shield is the whole point. "Spontaneity and fun is cool, but if you don't align with someone on basic core values that relationship is inevitably going to come to a halt," she said.  

There it is. 

The Invisible Woman

About a year back, I was in the park with Anakin on a beautiful fall day. I was in my typical underslept attire: hair shoved under a baseball cap, sunscreen but no cosmetics, a badly abused hoodie dress, comfy leggings, battered sneakers. 

Then, the park was invaded by a small army of high school girls, posing for yearbook pictures. Hair? On fleek. Makeup? Stunning. Physique? Well, they're high school girls. Fashion? On point. So many smart moto boots . . .  

I watched them simper and giggle and flip their glossy, perfectly styled manes, lip gloss glinting in the sun, and the unbidden thought popped into my head: I do not envy them at all.  

This was my inner voice talking, so no, I wasn't overcompensating for jealousy. I really did not envy them at all. 

What I saw was the cliques neatly divvying up and isolating others. I saw the Queen Bee being fawned over by her drones, clueless in her curated existence. What I saw was crippling insecurity, as some girls tried so hard to look so right for this "important" moment, yet believing they still fell short. For them, this was the high point of their existence to date, but in short order, it won't matter all that much. 

Television and movies nowadays are bemoaning how older women are "invisible," even when the main character is smokin' hot. Kathy Bates has sighed on interviews how women of a certain age are overlooked and disregarded. 

Mireille Silcoff expressed her befuddlement in a NYTimes Op-Ed, I'm a 53-Year-Old Woman. Stop Telling Me I'm Invisible. Besides for the fact that it's not true, or at least not every older woman's experience, she notes: 

Recently I canvassed a number of my middle-aged female friends and asked: If you could drink a potion and become 22 again today, would you do it? 

A few waffled, but after some thought, not one of them said yes. 

Today's culture idealizes youth, but that doesn't mean that anyone over the age of 35 simply vanishes off the earth. Nor does it mean that everyone wants to stay perpetually young, stupid, and unaccomplished.  

If you feel unheard and unseen, announce your presence. It's not about age. It's about confidence.   

Never Forget

“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” – George Santayana, The Life of Reason, 1905

I have a theory. 

Vaccines are a contentious topic nowadays. There are many parents who are refusing to vaccinate their child based on . . . well, not much. One bogus study 20 years ago blew a hole in preventive immunity, and horrific diseases that were dying out are making a comeback. 

During covid, there was an article in The Wall Street Journal about an outbreak of virulent flu in 1957. A vaccine was developed in a couple of weeks, the military's resources was hauled in to New York City to disseminate it, and the virus was stopped in its tracks. The author was wondering what changed to today. 

My theory? The Spanish Flu killed millions. That had been only 40 years prior. The population remembered all too well the loved ones that had died, the suffering it caused. 

The same premise holds for the rise of antisemitism today. Some complain that it's synonymous with the antisemitism of 1930s Berlin, but Alan Dershowitz amends that to say it's like the antisemitism of 1930s America. I've read novels that take place in 1900s New York City, and just because someone was white didn't mean he wasn't discriminated against. All forms of racism was rampant, against Italians, the Irish, anyone of color, and yes, Jews. 

Yet what why did that antisemitism ease? The Holocaust. Many in the world were horrified by what the Nazis did, even if they were antisemitic. And we, by extension, became complacent. We forgot how it once was, how baked into the general psyche antisemitism can be. Then time passed. Survivors died out. People forgot. 

Han says the same thing regarding terror attacks. It breaks my brain a little to realize there are voting adults who were born after September 11. They didn't even exist at the time of that national trauma. They don't know what life was like before terror came to America. They just think the TSA is a pain in the ass.  

That's why it's important to remember the past. Yes, I happen to have a fascination with history, and it provides me with a framework to roll my eyes whenever I hear lines like "The world is burning." Babe, you've got air conditioning. Your great-great-grandma did not have a climate controlled living space or indoor plumbing or basic hygiene or a guarantee all her babies would, well, live. 

When we say, "Never again," we are also saying, "Never forget." Because history is important. All of it. 

No Reason

One day in the office, Han overheard a conversation, and intrigued, drifted over. 

A fellow had explained to a female co-worker that he had gone on a date, but decided not to continue for a number of problematic red flags. 

The woman was poo-pooing his choice, saying he was being too particular, questioning his judgement. 

Note that Han is the only observant Jew at work, but these two weren't even Jewish. As gentile as they come.  

There's this phenomenon I've noticed when people seem to think that their situation is unique, and ascribe it to certain circumstances. 

Like, "I'm single because my family is fruity." 

There are plenty of young marrieds with fruity families. 

Or, "I'm single because of my health condition" (meaning "no one wants to date me because of my health condition")

There are plenty of young marrieds with health conditions. 

Or, "I'm single because I'm frum." 

There are plenty of single gentiles and frei Jews out there. I didn't watch the entire Bridesmaids, but the opening scene hit so hard. Annie (Kristen Wiig) nervously enters her friend's engagement party, only to be bombarded on with snide comments about her lack of partner and fending off nebachs. 

Look, I get it. It's human nature to try to find the reason why our desires aren't fulfilled. We want to blame a specific circumstance for our singlehood, because enough people do blame singles for being single. But It's not my fault! I can't help this! 

Yet that path leads to anger and resentment. One starts railing at the constructed reason, rather than finding joy in other avenues available. 

There are plenty of people who are single and there is no reason. 

The fun part about being frum is that if you leave it to His timing, that does take the pressure off.   

Anti-Segulah

I've always had a problem with so-called "segulas," then Rabbi Natan Slifkin sucked whatever residue of mysticism out of me. So far in our marriage, Han's more mystical in outlook than I am, but now he's also reading Rabbi Slifkin's book and I (wiping away a tear) am giddy that he's come (somewhat) to the rationalist side with me. 

Han noted that one of the differences is that mysticism believes in the ability to manipulate spiritual forces to achieve their own ends—which sounds a lot like segulos. Segulos tend to be on the woo-woo side: visiting various dead sages, lifting havdalah candles to a specific height (never lifted mine, still got a tall guy), lighting various candles for unknown reasons, etc. etc. 

How come no one says, "I'm giving tzedakah as a segulah?" 

"I'm visiting a lonely elder as a segulah?" 

"I'm buying groceries for that struggling family as a segulah?" 

Segulos tend not to help anyone. 

Hashem doesn't need your candle. The dead sage is not sitting around his grave waiting to take a sack of requests up to his Manager. The havdalah candle has no correlation to one's bashert. 

Instead of a segulah, help someone. Hashem likes it when we help others. It doesn't matter what your motivation is. Ma would say, "As long as the poor man gets to eat." We know motivation doesn't mean much in Judaism; action does. 

So instead of spending money in the name of "segulah," give that money to tzedakah instead. 

Rationalist out.  

Zipper-Mouth Emoji

I was in for a 45 minute drive, so I pulled up the YU Torah app and punched on a shiur at random. Surprise me. 

I had never listened to this rabbi before, and . . . well. 

He was discussing a writing of the Rambam, specifically his take on "Do not hate your fellow in your heart." 

The Rambam wrote there is a simple solution to this. So you don't hate your fellow in your heart, the remedy is to tell them in what manner they bug you, they'll correct it, and problem solved! 

I thought he was joking, but no. He repeated this "solution" numerous times, including a separate example of rebuking someone who is violating halacha. Apparently, that person will also be glad to be "rebuked," because obviously he knows it's for his own good! 

Um . . . 

Look, the Rambam is my man. Seriously, I refer to myself as a "Rambam Girl." But, sweetie, no. This isn't going to fly. 

There is a very good reason why most of us prefer to keep our mouths shut even if resentment is percolating away in our chests. Because if telling another that a behavior of theirs bothered us was simple and straightforward, we wouldn't be dealing with ulcers. 

I do believe that the biggest problem in relationships is usually communication. Yet there are many barriers to effective communication. One of which being that none of us like critique. Sometimes, honest feedback can destroy a relationship.  

I told over this shiur to two people, and they both found it unintentionally hilarious. 

I'm still Team Keep Shtum.  

No Regrets

 "Looking back," she asked, "did you make any decisions that you think now you would've done differently?" 

She means, of course, in terms of dating. 

I wasn't even insulted; I get versions of this question from time to time, specifically from people who married at the "appropriate" age (of 21 or so). There's still that undercurrent of: It was your fault, in some way. It just doesn't make sense otherwise. 

I recently listened to a Meaningful Minute: Stories of Hope with Jackie Glaser as the guest with her husband. Jackie has quite the tale; a baalas teshuva, she only started dating in her late 30s, married at 44, and had a baby at 50. She had some insights which I had also realized in my own experiences. 

One of which being: Han is my person. Even when I'm annoyed at him, he's my person. Even when we fight, he's my person. It never, ever crosses my mind that I made a mistake or married the wrong dude or think wistfully of some other guy I went out with once. He's my person.

The only reason I know this is because I dated all the other candidates for over ten years, and no one, no one was remotely him. 

Whereas, for those who married to the first or second or third chap that they went out with, when the bumps in the road come (and believe me, they'll come) they might wonder, in a moment of weakness . . . Did I choose right? 

It's human nature. I doubt I would be different. It's only because I took the long and winding road that I know. 

This is what I tell those who are freaking because their child (typically daughter) is still unmarried in their mid-20s (gasp!): There's pros too, not just cons.  

So, no: Looking back, I know 100% I had made the right decisions. It wasn't that I was a silly, flighty 21-year-old and I said no to someone who was probably my soul mate but I had been ridiculous about something minor. 

Another thing: Ma would say, "They find you, even if you're hiding under the bed." Meaning, just because someone once said no to their potential soulmate doesn't mean Hashem decrees, "No soup for you!" Tziporah Grodko discusses this: Is Hashem that cruel? One mistake on our part and we are denied fulfillment in marriage? Shidduchim have happened all the time despite rejections along the way (including my own). If it's meant to be, it'll be.  

God, Take the Wheel

We don't have control. 

This is a message that I thought I learned after dating forever and Ma dying. Yet this message didn't really kick in until I had offspring. 

An article popped up in my feed from The Atlantic by Jessica Slice, a disabled woman, titled "The Biggest Surprise About Parenting With a Disability." I'm not a paying subscriber, so the most I could gather was from the teaser: Slice thought parenting would be incredibly difficult, considering the modern narrative, plus she is disabled to boot. 

Yet, to her surprise, she didn't find it as hard as she thought it would be. Her theory was that being disabled, she was already quite aware that she did not have control. Postpartum mothers can be suddenly dealing with an unaccommodating body, and most definitely an unaccommodating baby, and that new lack of control is terrifying. 

We hear about helicopter parents and snowplow parents and parents who sign up their fetuses for the high-tier advanced playgroup that is the first step for future success. Despite the fact that there is no proof that the high-tier advanced playgroup leads to a corner office—yet there certainly is enough data that resilience is a better predictor of accomplishment. 

The tighter our grip, the more slips away. It's not easy. We live in a culture where parents are blamed for everything, whether by society or by their own children, so it's not such a stretch that parents would think that they have to be perfectly on top of their game OR ELSE. 

I was the youngest. It was very apparent then that Ma felt little to no pressure at that point. She expected me to study and try; as long as I did that, it didn't matter if I got a bad grade. She didn't feel the need for extracurriculars, unless it was something I wanted to do. She knew what kids really want: cartoons to be watched in peace, toys, and cake. She didn't begrudge them. She was still terrifyingly European and expected good behavior and going to bed on time, but she didn't demand academic excellence. When I was in high school, I decided I wanted to do well and really applied myself.

So with my kids, I try to see them for who they are and what they need, as opposed to what I would want them to be. I try for them to feel accomplished for themselves, rather than my doing things for them. 

Will they be mad at me when they grow up? Probably. But they'll be mad at me no matter what I do, so I might as well take it easy on myself. 

We don't have control, whether we think we do or not. For many of us, our lives did not turn out remotely the way we expected. And that's ok! It's not an indicator of failure. It just means we aren't in control. 

"Tiny Beautiful Things"

After reading Lori Gottlieb's Maybe You Should Talk to Someone, I've been trying to find other books with the same therapy/self-awareness vibe. I don't remember which website I used to find Tiny Beautiful Things by Cheryl Strayed, but I do appreciate the recommendation. 

For a couple of years, Strayed was asked to take over a struggling online magazine's self-help column, called Dear Sugar. The book is a compilation of the questions and her responses. 

What makes her approach so unique is that instead of the typical Dear Abby model, where Abby is an invisible voice dispensing advice, Strayed begins each of her responses with a personal anecdote that seems to have nothing to do with the question. 

The anecdotes are vividly described, and most of them are quite miserable. Strayed grew up in a dysfunctional home, lost her beloved mother very young, and struggled through many years of poverty before becoming a best-selling writer. 

Somehow, magically, she manages to brilliantly tie the life lesson she learned from her own experience to the advice she dispenses to the questioner. 

As I get older, the more I see how we are all really more the same than different. We get disappointed. We figure out what we can and cannot control. We figure out our values and what's important to us. We grieve. We rejoice. 

So even though my experiences may not be exactly the same as someone else's, with 40 very close, I am still able to better see the commonality of the human condition. The empathy we should be giving one another, rather than the blame. 

It's not that Strayed's life made her perfect person to be a self-help columnist. She's not a therapist by training. But she possesses the self-awareness and self-confidence to look unflinchingly at even the most unpleasant moments of her life and turn it into a valuable lesson. 

One experience of hers that she mentions more than once was how her first marriage was to a good man, but a little voice inside kept telling her to leave. She's now been happily married to her current husband for 25+ years. Validation that is always nice to hear: Just because a person is nice doesn't mean they're for you. 

The book has some, um, UA moments, so it's not for those who are squeamish about cussing and other stuff. Yet I find it a valuable read.