It Sucks Everywhere

A trailer popped up in my feed for the new film, Oh Hi, and against my better judgement, I let it play through. (It is very UA, so I do not recommend looking it up if you're squeamish.)

When Molly meets Isaac, everything seems to click into place. They are on the same page about so many things! The two have a whirlwind romance, and are off on a weekend getaway to a cabin. 

At some point, Molly sighs and gazing into Isaac's eyes, mentions something about them being a couple—to Isaac's surprise. 

Isaac quickly disabuses her of the notion. No, no, no, they're not a couple! Ha ha! No, they're just having fun! No strings fun! 

Molly then goes off the rails. She then proceeds to, in essence, kidnap Isaac in an attempt to convince him that he wants to be her boyfriend.  

OK, I have to admit that in the past, when a guy said "no," and I thought I liked him, I was sort of tempted to do the same.  

I have heard people complain, many times, that if they weren't frum they'd be married. I don't know what they are basing this on. If anyone reads anything about modern relationships, it's as much of a bleak hellscape as it is for single frummies. 

There is this phenomenon, for instance, of men as not being as "in" the relationship as his girlfriend is, but he doesn't want the drama of a breakup. So matters drift along, where she expects an imminent engagement and he's desperately hoping she'll leave him on her own volition. 

I know this isn't much comfort, but: it sucks everywhere. 

Frankly, I'm not sure if there ever was a golden age of relationships. None of us would be keen on the whole arranged marriage setup (I'm assuming). Chassidish b'shows are a rather acquired taste (cool for them, not for many). It's not like marriage guarantees a happy relationship. Because the stigma has been lessened, people actually feel free to divorce—which should be technically a good thing?—and now frum divorce is on the rise.  

There are all sorts of suggestions to completely overhaul "the system" in completely unenforceable ways. Yet the system isn't really a system, it's a vague set of guidelines that's barely being abided to. Even if the guidelines were being strictly followed, that wouldn't guarantee someone marriage, or a happy one at that. 

Yes, it seems to be grossly unfair how a 20-year-old pipsqueak trips into an engagement with seeming little effort. But as I get older, and presumably a wee bit wiser, I've learned that everyone struggles in some way at some point in their lives.  

In the end, none of us know what others are going through. It's often not public knowledge. So while it may seem as though those young chippies are skipping off into a blissful future, who knows what they have dealt with or will deal with in their lives? A wedding is a beginning, not an ending. Life can be one crazy ride.  

What is the End Game?

Everything is relative, is it not? 

After marrying at our decrepit ages, Han and I are surprised to hear parents panic over their single 19-year-olds. That's still a thing? 

Han is actually, well, insulted when he hears the terror in the voices of relatives, fretting over their unwed not-yet-of-legal-drinking-age offspring. 

"Don't they see how well it worked for us?" he asked me, flabbergasted. "Don't they realize that while the wait couldn't be helped, it was worth it?" 

"Oh, my sweet idiot," I said condescendingly, patting his arm, "no." 

No one is asking our advice about launching their children into the dating realm. Because we messed up, you see. 

There could have been a confluence of factors. Perhaps our profiles didn't show us to our best advantage. Maybe we didn't consult the "right" shadchanim. Obviously, we were too picky, until we saw some sense and made the choice to "settle." 

We are the cautionary tale, not the inspiration. Sorry, Han.

I bumped into my niece's friend, who laughed how her 21-year-old sister is freaking over her singlehood. Especially considering how their parents wedded at a later age than Han and I. 

"She should be enjoying herself!" I said. "She should be doing things! Because soon," I gestured towards my burbling Anakin (yes, I'm going with Anakin, it's canon), "she won't be able to do ANYTHING. And she'll miss that time." 

I know of a gal who was shocked to find herself "still" single at 22. She married, happily, at 23. At 24, holding her bouncing baby, she finds herself hit by that proverbial Mack Truck. "I'm supposed to be up every two hours all night?!" Then: "I'm glad I didn't get married when I was 19!" 

The whole screaming infant part isn't exactly advertised in the brochure. A baby in theory is very different than a baby in practice. Even the really good ones don't let you go to the bathroom as often as their mothers would like. 

I have my moments when I sing to myself one of Ma's favorite sayings: "I'm gonna run away from home." The second time around, I'm used to the sleep deprivation, but Ben's adjustment to a new interloper was a real doozy. Then there are all those cheerful people who tell me having three is even harder, because then Han and I will be outnumbered. 

My point is this: motherhood is hard. It shouldn't be taken on lightly. 

Next: I've been hearing too many stories about young couples on the rocks. A few have lead to divorce. Which makes me sad. I know "they" say that marriage is work, but that doesn't mean it's never fun. Why else would anyone marry? There are "projects" out there that urge earlier marriages to circumvent singles, but what about the divorces? 

In today's times, younger marriages can be catastrophic. And yet these . . . children are being harried into early couplehood. That's meant for life.  

I recently came across this blog post, and when I mentioned it to Han he said that while men are allowed to nix a shidduch due to "attraction," it is considered an unimportant expectation from women. Here's the tip: if engagement is in the conversation, you both should be excited to spend time with each other.

Han and I were not willing to settle. Baruch Hashem, our parents understood and supported us, even though they found it difficult to watch us stay single. Because they also wanted us to be happy. 

Do we want our children to be happily married? Or just married? 

Book Review: "Group"

I don't usually read much non-fiction, but I seem to be drawn to therapy memoirs. The first, Lori Gottlieb's Maybe You Should Talk to Someone was from the perspective of both therapist and patient; the second, Catherine Gildiner's Good Morning, Monster was strictly from the therapist. I recently finished the third, Group: How One Therapist and a Circle of Strangers Saved My Life by Christie Tate. 

She's obviously a patient. 

The book opens with Tate in her late 20s, wishing for death. She's smothered by loneliness. She wants a significant other. But the only men she's been attracted to thus far are incapable of relationships. 

She goes to a therapist (Jewish, of course) who has an atypical method of treatment: it's group therapy, and EVERYTHING is shared. His belief is that secrecy is damaging, as secrecy is tied to shame. 

That's not quite my outlook on secrecy (isn't there a difference between secrecy and privacy?) but the therapy does wonders for Tate. We see how she progress step, by step, by step. Sure, there are some missteps too, but the seven years that she details is fascinating, although I could have done without some of the EVERYTHING she relayed (warning: very UA). 

Two aspects jumped out at me from the book. 

The first:

There is a raw scene when Tate expresses her desire for a family of her own. The members of the group are inviting her for the holidays (all are married), but she wants her OWN family. It was at this point when I began to relate to Tate. 

That understanding continued as she describes one of her relationships. She has made progress with the sort of man she dates, but these attempts have not ended happily. The next relationship she's in, he's, well, a bit odd. But he has a stable job, a stable personality, suitably boring. She expresses her misgivings to the group, but they all firmly say that this is what she needs. She herself swallows her misgivings because, after all, this is the best she's going to get. 

. . . I fantasized about calling him later to say, "Have a nice life."

But I didn't think I was allowed to let go. That was literally the word in my head: allowed. I'd been bellowing about relationships for years. I'd invested thousands of dollars in therapy . . . I'd recently been involved with a married man. Therefore, I wasn't allowed to walk away from [him]. He was single, solvent, and kind. . . I knew I wouldn't break up with him. The urge to flee was overpowered by my need to prove I was willing to do the hard work I was sure intimate relationships required. 

And there we have it. 

This group of people love her. When you spend hours upchucking your emotional guts to a group, of course you feel something for each other. They socialize together outside of sessions. And yet, and yet, they encourage her to ignore her gut because this is the best option—so far. 

Well, does that sound familiar. 

During my dating years, I certainly heard this message enough. I heard mothers say it about their own children, how they told their kid that they must commit to the current option. Sometimes that works out—and sometimes it doesn't. 

Thankfully, Tate's boyfriend finally raises a red flag high enough that she could break up with him with the blessing of everyone. That irritated me, that she was told to ignore all those other flapping signals, supposedly for her own good.  

This breakup, unlike the others, carried something novel: a strong whiff of relief. Now I could stop pretending that [he] was my soulmate and get on with my life. 

In the end, it's not all those other random people who will be present in a relationship. It's two people, alone. Shouldn't they be the most comfortable together as possible?  

The second aspect in the next post. 

"True to Me"

I was delighted to read this piece in Mishpacha Magazine by Avigail Stern, especially when it echoed my sentiments exactly. 

Stern describes her experience as an "older single," and when she finally reached her limit of "pretzel twisting." 

As a single, one is bombarded with "advice," and she was no different. She initially listened to it all, dutifully following their suggestions, until she realized that she was no longer dating as herself. 

She worked to rediscover what she needed, what she wanted, what her values were. She realized that hishtadlus doesn't mean doing everything and anything possible. 

She was discerning when it came to single events. She stopped sending out photos of herself, a step that she had disliked intensely (as did I, but my parents didn't let me). 

The experience of meeting her husband sounded so familiar: 

And at the end of our . . . first date, I walked back into my friend’s house shocked and confused. I liked him. And he liked me back. How did that happen? Wasn’t that weird? That’s not how this dating game usually plays out!

I’d been dating for 20 years. I knew how this was supposed to go. But apparently, the rules can change at any time, when Hashem wills it.

. . .  I knew I’d met someone unlike anyone I’d met before. I called my rebbetzin after that second date, just to make sure something wasn’t wrong with me. Is it normal to just like someone? To feel we connected so easily? To not have any doubts or worries about him as a person? Maybe I was missing something ominous that I just didn’t see?

She laughed and said this was a gift from Hashem called clarity. Barely four weeks later, still shocked but no longer confused, we drank a l’chayim. It had been the easiest, smoothest, calmest dating experience I ever had.

When I came home from my first date with Han, I remember walking through my door and thinking, "I like him!" Usually, it would be, "Well, he has this, this, and this going for him, but that, that, and that isn't really ok with me. People would say that it's not important. I guess I should go out again? But I don't want to . . ." 

Those "advisors" would have us think that choosing a spouse is merely a matter of tallying pros and cons. But it's more than that. I think of that scene in Fill the Void when they go to consult the rebbe, and he asks her what she feels about it. She briskly replies, "It's not a matter of feeling," but the rebbe begs to differ, that it is very much about feeling. 

It doesn't have to be about forcing yourself to become someone else. It doesn't have to be about ignoring your gut just because someone is good "on paper." It doesn't have to be analyzed to death. We meet the right people in our lives at the appointed times. 

Hindsight is 20/20, but I regret how nervous I was in those years, how I believed that "trying" meant being on active alert 24/7. It was exhausting, while the ending would be the same. I'm still a worrier, though. That hasn't changed. Work in progress.  

Shidduch Myth: All Girls Are Amaaaaazing

In a prior post, I addressed the concept of "good ones being taken," and I would like to expound further. 

This statement is usually uttered by women. Accomplished, capable, bedazzled women sparkling with carefully applied highlighter. Many women, you see, push themselves to be the best, while men . . . well, plenty aren't up to their full potential. 

I've even heard something along the lines of "all girls are good, while men—eh." 

As someone who barely survived high school, I can say that not all girls are "good," whatever "good" means. Does "good" mean presentable and career-oriented? Or does "good" mean getting voted "Never made another girl cry in the bathroom"? 

I've heard tales. One example: One of Han's dates ordered the most expensive steak on the menu, specifying "well done" (I don't even eat red meat, and I know that's a no-no). She barely ate half, and when the waiter asked if she wanted to take home the leftovers, she declined (Han wanted to take it home, considering it was his $85 going into the garbage). 

What about "good" meaning considerate? 

I've met a number of women who are really, on paper, fabulous. But in person, um, er, *cough.* 

I'm not saying that if a guy isn't yet all who he can be he shouldn't pull himself up by his bootstraps. I just tend to socialize more with women than men, so I cannot give many observations about them. 

Here's my take: We're all supposed to be striving to do better, no matter where we are in life. So even if one has the "good job" and "good wardrobe" boxes ticked off, that doesn't mean that he/she is good to go. 

I recall in my single days, when I would be mesmerized at the description of some snazzy lawyer, excitedly wait for a date, only to be sneered and snarled at by some obnoxious specimen. 

So if you've got the work/appearance thing down pat, maybe you could sit down with yourself to see how you could improve further, between yourself and humankind and God. 

One of the positive aspects of being single is that there usually is the time available to self-improve. Believe me, that time vanishes once offspring roll around. Sleep deprivation doesn't leave much time for deep thoughts (think too deeply, you pass out).

So while a shadchan may hawk someone as being amazing because they are professionally accomplished and gorgeous, those criteria do not necessarily mean they are a "good one." 

To be "good"—you gotta do good. Like not talk to your date as though she is an idiot, or max out his credit card.

"I'm Still Single Because . . ."

Han has a friend from his yeshiva days that he keeps up with. Let's call him . . . Lando. Lando didn't have such a fun time dating either, but he married before Han did and is now proud papa to a small fleet of children. 

He and Han were chatting, and their previous dating lives came up. Lando was opining that as he had moved more to the right than his family, he did not have parents who could advocate for him whilst seeking a bride. 

Han was a bit puzzled by his friend's observation. For one, while he and I are heimishe FFBs, our parents' involvements didn't guarantee earlier marriages. There's only so much advocation parents can do. Even if my father went around shaking his friends by their suit lapels, screaming "FIND HER A MAN, DAMMIT!" it wouldn't have meant that Han would have appeared anytime sooner. 

Additionally, Lando's wife (great gal, I like her a lot) had just started dating when she was introduced to her husband. Meaning they couldn't even have met any earlier. 

Unless Lando was saying that he could have married someone else if his parents were involved? 

In the end, everyone who dates can have a reason why they are still single. They can blame their family, they can blame their religiosity level, they can blame physical attributes, they can blame a lot of things. But there are plenty of people who have "the deck stacked against them" and they still marry when young, even happily. 

So Han and I have the same position: It's when God decides it's time. You can blame whoever you like. But as with everything in life, it's not in our control.

Prince Boring is King

I wasn't so jazzed about Bridgerton. I'm rather surprised at myself, considering my teenage diet of regency romances, but I found it frustrating. Just one aspect: the women claim to want love, but simultaneously, the higher title, the better. Ladies, you have to pick a lane. 

I have no intention of spending a post picking apart Bridgerton—I'm not that much of a killjoy—but I came across this article about how the Prince would have been the better choice for Daphne, title aside.  

But despite their chemistry, I found myself secretly, silently rooting for Daphne to say yes to her other suitor: unmysterious, dully predictable Prince Friedrich of Prussia. Go with the nice guy! I pleaded. Make it work! In the language of romance—settle. Settle! Settle for happiness, and not just the idea of it.

The idea of a love match—a Darcy and Elizabeth ending rather than, say, a Charlotte and Mr. Collins compromise—is a central theme in the show, and one I very much agree with. But while most marriage plots end with a marriage, Bridgerton is interested in what happens after the knot has been tied. And that is where things can get complicated.

OK, I have to admit, I don't understand this concept of "settling" for the nice guy. I wanted a nice guy. I searched for the nice guy. Thank God, I found the nice guy. Bad boys? Cool dudes? No thank you. I've never had any interest in them. I'm guessing that they're initially exciting, but they get old reeeeeaaaaaal quick.

Rooting for the stable guy doesn’t mean marrying some dud over your true love. It’s not like I think Buttercup should’ve taken a second look at Humperdinck and said, “Wow, this guy seems to have better prospects than a pirate—better stick with him.” But while Daphne and Simon proved me wrong, for a while there he was giving off some serious Willoughby from Sense and Sensibility vibes. And fans of the novel know, it’s Col. Brandon, Marianne Dashwood’s older, kinder, overlooked suitor, who turns out to be her real soul mate after the dashing Willoughby throws her over. It’s the difference between the intensity of romantic love and the sustaining love that carries you forward when you are in the foxhole together, facing loss and sorrow and hardship and boredom and birth.

I've seen a few gals I know, capable, steady women, who married guys who have the whole brooding Marlon Brando thing going for them, and I wonder—is he going to be supportive when you have a bad day at the office? Or will he shrug and head out for a smoke?

Eons ago (well, it feels like eons) I read a book called Kristen Lavransdatter and wrote a post about it. It pretty much backs Nordberg's point. It seems to be a favorite angle with Austen too: beware of the charming, handsome smoothie. Colonel Brandon is one of my favorite characters (while I'm a fan of Alan Rickman, he was already 49 in the 1995 version, so that was not good casting. David Morrissey in the 2008 adaptation suited me perfectly); he proves himself to be the reliable, caring, considerate suitor that Marianne eventually appreciates (or marries on the rebound. I don't think he cared). 

The Goofy. The Quirky. The You.

I am still working my way through Miranda, and there was a few episode arc that I loved. 

Miranda has caught the eye of a reporter, Mike. He asks her out, and on it she invariably does a Miranda—something goofy that makes her get odd looks from people. Like if someone says something that happens to be a song lyric, she has to belt out the whole song. 

Once she's finished her ballad, she waves goodbye to Mike and leaves. Because of course he won't be interested in her now. 

But he is. He comes back to her store, starry-eyed, breathing, "So quirky." 

In the next episode, Miranda still attempts to tone down her Miranda-ness because of course he won't stay interested in her. She manages until she doesn't (in front of his father), at which point he sighs in relief. He was wondering where his quirky girl had gone. 

Yes, this is television, and a sitcom at that, but I assure you, dear audience, that life is very much like this. 

For those who have been in the dating trenches, how often were you told not to be "yourself"? (Raising both my hands.) Frankly, it's too much work to suppress the real me. Yes, a good number of guys bolted in horror, but Han says I have "simchas hachayim." 

Han can be his real self with me, and I can be my real me with him. And it's fun. Because it turns out, we can both be goofy. 

Being Married Isn't Everything

I had an epiphany yesterday. 

I had been thinking of couples I had been hearing of, the young marrieds who have not been having a seamless transition into wedded-hood. Perhaps one has a temper, or their personalities clash. Then throw in a colicky baby into the mix, bringing the stress index ever higher. 

It was then I realized something. Fast forward ten, or twenty, or thirty years. If these couples stay together, and have not managed to make their experience a better one, then they will see their marriages as having one perk: Status. 

The status to tell other singles, "That's what you are expecting in a marriage? Dream on." 

Perhaps they will get annoyed. "What, exactly, are you holding out for?" 

Then: "If you are expecting fireworks, puh-leez." 

And, underneath their scorn, lies a fear that the optimistic singles might get what they hope for: a spouse that they mesh with.

Let's be honest, not all marriages are happy or healthy, and not all of these unions are dissolved. And yet, singles are expected to accept any marrieds advice because Hey! We're married! Unlike you, losers! 

Yes, they are married. But if I just wanted to be married, I could have done that years ago. But I wanted to be married to someone I didn't fantasize about suffocating with a pillow while he slept. 

There is so much conflicting advice floating around, but that's because, and I will repeat this yet again, people are different. If a certain piece of advice speaks to you, then it's right for you. But it won't necessarily wow your single friend. 

It is a blessing to be married. It is a greater blessing to be married to the person that works for you.

Once is Enough

When I was dating, I never had what could be considered a previous "relationship" before Han. Most of my dates were one-and-dones; on rare occasion, a second date. Only once did I go as far as a third. 

It was on the aforementioned third date (there was a post I already dedicated to that event) that I was informed that this dating pattern wasn't acceptable. As I recall, he said, "What's wrong with you?" 

I felt as though he had socked me in the stomach. I staggered about for the next hour, wondering if there was something wrong with me, only to delightfully realize my date was a jerk. 

Han says the same thing; the majority of his dates were one, maybe two, meetings. 

This issue is addressed in Eckel's chapter entitled, "You Need Practice"; the theory is that one cannot be ready for the REAL relationship if they haven't had a serious one beforehand. 

So, you know how not everyone is the same? So some people can go out with someone, think they are nice enough, start a relationship with them, dangle along for an indeterminate amount of time, conclude they aren't really "feeling it," part ways, and start again.

For me, that would not do. On a first date, I would usually be able to zero in that our values didn't mesh, and then say, "He's not for me." (Or, if I did say, "I'd go out again," then he'd say no.) Here is where the gut plays a role; I would know, I would just know, that this guy isn't meant to be my husband. There is something in his behavior that shows that he's not very considerate, or that he's sweet but his conversation is not on your wavelength.

Frankly, I found dating emotionally draining enough that "practicing" with countless guys would have left me a babbling wreck. I only wanted to start with the REAL relationship. When it's the right person for you, then you don't need the "practice." You just . . . work, and not in the "marriage is work" sort of work. You mesh, relatively painlessly, although he can't stand it when you wear your old socks with holes in the heels (I like my holey socks!)

Shidduch Lit: It's Not You

 OK, I know I have been saying that the persecution of singles takes place all over, in all cultures, countries, and societies, but I don't think that it really hit home until I read Sara Eckel's It's Not You: 27 (Wrong) Reasons You're Single. 

I mean, I thought it took place on some level, but not to the extreme as it is in the frum world. From what I've been gleaning from this book, which was recommended by an anonymous follower, the perception of something inherently wrong with singles is a view shared by, well, the entire human race. 

As I read, I was surprised how practically every sensation I experienced as a single was accurately described. Her chapter on being picky was practically my post on the same topic, word-for-word. 

That lead me to another epiphany: I'm expecting too much from our community. 

If the entire human race finds singlehood terrifying to look at, how is it possible for the frum demographic to calm the hell down? Eckel is describing a lifestyle where people aren't particularly religious yet they expect everyone to pair up; our faith demands that men get married and make a go at populating the earth. 

I can't expect the frummies to become mellow with the whole concept of "older singles." The campaign slogan, instead, should be kindness. Or tact, at the very least. 

Tragedy exists in a multitude of forms. People are born with disabilities. People die young by illness or accident. People yearn to be parents, but remain childless. Those subject to those circumstances must struggle with hurtful comments as well. 

The problem isn't the wrong perception of singlehood. It's the typical reaction that in our discomfort and need to control, we often say things in a desperate attempt to believe that we can prevent such circumstances, that if we do the "right thing" then we shall be thusly spared. 

So, single person, you must be too picky. You must be commitment phobic. You must not be trying hard enough.

Now we can all sleep at night. 

To get back on topic, Eckel's book is an excellent read for those who have been battered by well-meaning yet ego-devastating comments. I would have highlighted and posted 85% of it and reposted it, when it's much more gratifying to simply read it. She doesn't simply make a statement like "that's ridiculous"; she backs it up with other papers, other thinkers (even Brene!), other points, logically disproving the myth at hand.

So You Thought It Was Just Us

I think that the major frustration of being single is not that one is single, but that other people treat you like you are the most pitiable creature to grace the Earth. 

It's a form of gaslighting, really. Because when one is single, one is technically able to do all sorts of things, things that are not exactly feasible when one is wed and babied. So instead of spending one's single years doing those things, one spends one's single years calling up shadchanim, attending singles events, and feeling like crud. 

Plus, if I might be honest . . . it's not like marriage results in mindless bliss for everyone. I've been hearing a story or two that wedding does not equal happily ever after. Don't get me wrong, I'm very happy to be married—to Han. No one else would do.

Katerina Tsasis' Modern Love essay begins with awful familiarity: 

People treat you differently when you are steadily single. Not everyone, not all the time, not always overtly, not necessarily unkindly. They ask why no one has snatched you up, offer to set you up on blind dates, seat you at the singles table at formal events. . . As a child, I belonged to an immigrant community that viewed marriage and motherhood as a woman’s primary goal in life. . . Here’s another thing that happens when you’re single: Your time and plans are perceived as less fixed and less valid than for people who are married.

She did things. 

Over that next year I learned new subjects, traveled to a dozen countries, practiced speaking other languages, watched an opera staged on the steps of a castle, hiked Mount Kilimanjaro, drove the terrifying roundabout at the Arc de Triomphe.

Singles aren't permitted to enjoy themselves. If they do, then they aren't "serious" about marriage. They have to curl up in a corner and cry non-stop for divine intervention.  They have to view themselves as pathetic and in need of major overhaul. 

She got the same load of crap from people that we do/did. 

At this point, I had stopped believing one needed a partner to be fulfilled in life, but I still thought I must be lacking in some fundamental way — not good enough, attractive enough, nice enough, or something enough — in comparison.

Friends, relatives, acquaintances and even strangers will obligingly point out what you, as a single person, seem to lack. A friend of mine went to see a doctor regarding a mental health question and his prescription was that she needed a boyfriend. Well-meaning relatives urged her to go to church to find a man, even though she’s agnostic.

I have been told I’m too picky, not getting any younger, should put myself out there more, have to fight for love, and should look for a guy who’s more attractive and less attractive, more nerdy and less nerdy, more assertive and less assertive.

Men I have barely known or haven’t known at all have told me I should wear more makeup, change my attitude, do more situps, dress differently, smile more. I’ve heard it on a first date, walking down the street minding my business, and in the middle of a conversation about a totally different subject.

Deja vu all over again. 

And then, a relationship that worked.

There wasn’t any magic about it, no soul awakening, no personal reckoning, no neat and tidy reason as to why it worked where the others hadn’t. I met a man who is a lovely human being. We found shared interests and chemistry. We treated each other with kindness and respect. I’m pretty sure if I had met him years before, or years later, the outcome would have been the same: We got married.

I’m the same person, living in the same place, doing the same job, with the same friends and the same hobbies. There was nothing worse about me before. There is nothing better about me now. And yet, people who treated my singlehood with curiosity, pity or disregard are now warmer and more welcoming. It’s as if I have joined the club.

That's what annoys me. I'm now "acceptable," no longer "three- headed bearded lady." But after so many years as "circus freak," it's kind of hard to readjust to acceptance. I feel like an imposter—"Oh, you are making polite chit-chat, new acquaintance? Don't you know you're supposed to look at me with condescending derision?"

When I lived in Los Angeles, I used to go out with friends and queue for hours to get into some new, exclusive club, only to finally get in and discover there wasn’t much going on inside. The social pressure regarding marriage feels like that, an emphasis on getting through the doorway without enough care for what lies beyond.

Marriage isn't magically, effortlessly wonderful. But little conversation takes place regarding self-improvement to be in the best place for lifetime partnership. It's all about a wedding. Zeh hu. 

On the other side, decimated with exhaustion from a very demanding (yet no less squishy) baby, I'm amazed how they sell this to young young kids who haven't had a chance to do much. I'm enjoying him very much cause I waited so long to have him, but for youngsters, get a chance to do some things, cause one day all you'll want to do is sleep. Plus I've cleaned epic amounts of vomit twice in three days (he's fine! he's fine!).  

Our experiences vary. I can only describe mine. We punish and reward people for how well they conform to our ideals without even realizing it. We punish ourselves when the things we’re told to want keep us from appreciating and enjoying the things we have.

Someone may read this and find my thoughts obvious, trite, outdated. Someone may read this and think I have missed out in life. I’m writing it anyway, for the times I thought: “Maybe I’m imagining things” and “Maybe they’re right” and “Maybe there is something wrong with my life.”

Did this woman read my diary? 

It's very hard to ignore everyone's comments. It's very hard to have self-faith when everyone is telling you that you are a hideous aberration. Now on the other side, I wonder if it's a conspiracy: I'm married, you're not, so let's have a little fun. Because I don't think these comments come from a place of "I'm so delirious with joy in my marriage that I'll make this person feel terrible about being single." 

Marriage doesn't confer any special status. What is it about singles that make marrieds so nervous that they have to inform them that they're a problem? 

Hmmmmm.  

The Other Side

 "It was the perfect date," she declared. "We had so much in common. We talked for hours. But, he came late, so I think that's gonna mean a 'no' from me." 

Has anyone said that, ever? At least, has anyone sane ever said that?

I saw an article about a former older single who opines that her friends are just being so stupidly picky. Like, they won't see a guy again who was late or didn't open the door for her or took her for dinner and not coffee, or vice versa. 

Look, if a woman is complaining that her date was late, chances are the rest of the evening was a dud as well. She's just starting from the beginning. 

I happen to be a punctual sort of person. Like, ridiculously punctual. I'm usually early and spend my time twiddling my thumbs. And Han is . . . not. For example, for the majority of our dates I would get a text about a half hour before the meeting time with an apologetic delay. It got to a point that I would put on my makeup first, scrub the kitchen, and only get dressed if I knew for sure he was en route. 

Do I find this quirk sometimes exasperating? Yes. But was it a deal breaker? Well, no, obviously, because everything else was great. But if a date was late, and he was a jerk, I might have mentioned his tardiness on the list of his other failures as a human being. 

And what is up with once older singles chucking their compatriots under the bus? Hello, you weren't exactly 21 when you got married, lady, so why are you turning on your own former demographic?

OK, I can obviously understand their betrayal, it's not that hard. Hurt people hurt people; after years of abuse, it's nice to have the "upper hand," so to speak, to become one of the married masses and talk with that "I got married because I did such-and-such" voice. 

I've fallen into that trap too many times before to get snookered in. I didn't meet the right person until I was old. That's it. There was no grand internal reckoning, there was no sage I consulted, there was no sacrificial goat on a mountaintop with thunder and lightning. 

Ergo, I cannot claim it was something I said or did that got me married to the right person. I'm just thank the Big Matchmaker in the Sky, and try not to be obnoxious to other people.

Marry Him?

After finishing her book, I googled "Lori Gottlieb" to find more material on her, and I discovered that she wrote a book ten years ago called Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough.

Uh-oh. 

It was based on an article she wrote for The Atlantic in 2008: 

My advice is this: Settle! That’s right. Don’t worry about passion or intense connection. Don’t nix a guy based on his annoying habit of yelling “Bravo!” in movie theaters. Overlook his halitosis or abysmal sense of aesthetics. Because if you want to have the infrastructure in place to have a family, settling is the way to go. Based on my observations, in fact, settling will probably make you happier in the long run, since many of those who marry with great expectations become more disillusioned with each passing year. (It’s hard to maintain that level of zing when the conversation morphs into discussions about who’s changing the diapers or balancing the checkbook.)

Et tu, Lori? 

Reading on, I realized the issue is based on what "settling" actually means. I can't quite relate to this, because I'm actually a very boring person who just wanted to set up house and I was on the search for someone to set up the house with. Note, it was easier said than done. 

She's making the claim that a steady, reliable guy who will be a hands-on father and care about your feelings are a dime a dozen, and women primarily search for the sweep-me-off-my-feet dashing cool dudes who will only divorce them for younger models. Generalization much?

I came across this article in Jezebel magazine from earlier this year rehashing Gottlieb's book. The author, Tracy Clark-Flory, is annoyed how women are broadly painted with the "unrealistic expectations" brush, "Meanwhile, men come under no meaningful critique for superficiality or entitlement in the realm of sex and romance. They are largely the sane observers of women’s irrational whims." 

Gottlieb considers herself guilty of "unrealistic expectations." She ended up becoming a mother via sperm donor as she had no man on the horizon. Spoiler, her most recent book, published nearly a decade later, opens with her boyfriend breaking up with her when she thought he was "The One." It makes me wonder if she believed that if she was willing to try hard enough then a relationship would work. But it takes two to tango, and don't we know that. 

However, Clark-Flory does note that the publishers insisted on this eye-catching title, while Gottlieb's point was more about prioritizing character in a life partner as opposed to his looks. 

Clark-Flory had broken up with her lovely boyfriend when she was 26 because she wasn't ready for a forever commitment. She had fretted if she had made the right decision, and did end up marrying later on. But she concludes: 

Now that we’re here, many of us have realized, if we hadn’t long ago, that marriage isn’t a guarantee of happiness, it doesn’t automatically secure an equal partnership in parenting, and it’s often only a temporary state.

More to the point: no predictive storyline emerged around pickiness or settling, because there are no rules to this game. An individual woman’s marital status at any point in time is often chiefly representative of the unpredictable lives many of us are now allowed to live.

THERE ARE NO RULES! I really thought I was not being picky about dating (even though people said I was). I went out with guys who did not fit my criteria. And it didn't go anywhere until Han came along, who, I might add, had also been accused of being "picky."

I was not looking for Brad Pitt. Other single women I know of were/are not looking for Brad Pitt. But they still had a tough time. Because finding the right partner is not always easy, nothing to do with "settling." 

A woman may find her Brad Pitt immediately, and happily spend the rest of her life gazing at his pretty face. A man may be "searching for a heart of gold," but he's "growing old." Finding the right person, for anyone, no matter what the criteria might be, is not always a simple matter "reasonable criteria." Sometimes it doesn't work, no matter how much compromise is on the table.

Indian Shidduchim

I don't usually binge tv. I pride myself that I don't binge tv. 

Then I binged (to the best of my mothering ability) the end of Season 3 of "Offspring" (so much suspense!). Last week I clicked on "Indian Matchmaking" (pretty lame title, I know) and plowed through 8 episodes in 2 days. 

It's supposedly a reality show, but we all know reality shows aren't really "reality." Content is carefully edited for maximum impact. Drama is often cultivated to keep things interesting. 

There also begs the question as to what sort of person wants their lives broadcasted on international screens. 

The show centers around Sima, who claims to be "the top matchmaker in Mumbai" (can that be verified?) and her travels around the world to meet various clients. 

A common complaint by Sima is how her clients expect too much, they want the perfect person that doesn't exist, that they must be more flexible and willing to compromise. Take Aparna, who is located in the US. 

Aparna, initially, doesn't come off as very likable. She's not a cheerful sort of person. Sima notes her "negative vibes." Aparna tells Sima what she's looking for, and frankly, I didn't think she was being unreasonable. She even says what she doesn't need—funny. 

Sima then sets her up with someone who barely meets her criteria—probably another way to generate some drama. No surprise, Aparna is not interested in him. 

As the show goes on, Aparna becomes less grim, more smiley, but no less specific about what she needs. Why should she be? She actually knows herself.

Then there's the India-based Akshay. He makes it quite clear that he's not interested in marriage yet, but his mother wants him wed. Akshay is obviously dragging his feet while his mother is pulling the ol' Jewish guilt about her blood pressure. 

It's kind of painful to watch Akshay in action, as he is not a natural in front of the camera. Listening to him attempt to make conversation with a girl is torturous ("So, do you like dogs?").

Then Nadia. Nadia's "issue" is that while she's ethnically Indian, her family has been living in Guyana for generations (they are now in the US). Some Indian men find that off-putting. But she's definitely who everyone (the audience) has a crush on—she's  gorgeous (those highlights!), bright, and bubbly (but definitely not flaky as she is an event planner). She's totally the opposite of Aparna. Yet Sima sets them both up with the same guy, Shekar. In fact, the same three American based candidates keep popping up. It makes you wonder how many singles Sima actually knows in the US. 

So here's the kicker: none of the people featured on the show actually ends up with a relationship. The one engagement, which is loftily proclaimed, was called off yet that detail was not included in the show (thank you Internet, for the rebuttal). 

Han was wondering why they call it "arranged marriages" when it's really not anymore. It's like us, shidduch dating, which connotes a matchmaker. Akshay had a hundred girls suggested to him, but he rejected them for nebulous reasons (because he doesn't want to get married yet! He said so!) 

It was an easy, relatable watch, but the end point is the same for us: a matchmaker is not a miracle worker. She is not an all-knowing being who can magically select one's soulmate from the mass of humanity. She flings spaghetti against the wall to see what sticks. 

So so familiar . . . 

Not That Desperate

She couldn't bear matchmaking. In Southampton friends had tried over the years, and it had never worked. There was normally a reason why the man was still single: overbearing, or humorless, or self-absorbed, or with a disinclination to wash. And she had a perverse reaction to being told she would like someone. When she was a child, if her mother said she would like a particular dress or toy or pudding, Violet almost willed herself to hate it. — A Single Thread by Tracy Chevalier

Violet is a "surplus woman," a term for the outnumbering of British men by women by two million following World War I and the Spanish Flu. (I'll see your shidduch crisis and raise it.)  It's amazing, when you think about it, that there was a sufficient next generation of young men to fight in World War II.

Ergo, there usually was a reason why a man would still be single back then, as most women, if they wanted marriage badly enough, would definitely "compromise." Although, her list of reasons sound familiar enough to me, including a date who had a "disinclination to wash" (he was trying to be, literally, "greasy yeshivish." I didn't realize that was a thing until I went out with him). 

Are we familiar now with the term, "Good enough for yenem" meaning, "Not for my daughter, no way, but for you, he's totally good enough"? What makes it worse is when one is accused of being "picky" for not entertaining the "good enough" suggestion. 

It's not as though Violet is desperate enough for any man, for there are a few, and seem to be acceptable. She was in love with her fiance, who died in the war; but she still dislikes setups.

It was a bleak life for women back then if they decided to leave home, as Violet did; the only work they could do was usually secretarial, and that paid barely enough for Violet to eat. 

And yet, it's not even an option for her to consider a man she does not like. She would obviously rather starve. 

So why should women today, who thankfully can earn their own bread, be any different?  

Triggers

Han and I were taking a walk on one of these Shabbosim, pushing the stroller. We took a scenic route.

I saw a house, a beautiful house. "Oh my God," I said, as a sickening feeling took my stomach.

It came flooding back: It was during my single days. A shadchan had called. She asked me to visit her on Shabbos, before lunch, while she was visiting her parents. 

I carefully dressed that Shabbos morning, for yet another "interview." It was winter, or it was at least cold out. I arrived with a chilled nose. I was nervous and hopeful. 

I was embarrassed to be welcomed into a full house, her other married siblings having all come for some sort of family occasion. I want to say her father's birthday. I was ushered into a side room. 

I don't remember much of the conversation itself. I remember her expression, initially friendly, becoming stiffer and stiffer with disapproval. I remember leaving with that all-too-familiar sensation of hope turning to sludge, as I was yet again deemed "unworthy" by a stranger. 

Maya Angelou said, "I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel."

Sometimes I see a person, and my insides freeze up. I don't remember what she said, but I remember how she made me feel. Many people (male and female) made me feel that way when I was single. Opening pleasantries. A shidduch suggestion. Then, for lack of a better term, the bitchy comments on my life choices or appearance or behavior. 

I'm sitting now typing this at my kitchen table with a baby babbling at my feet, with Han washing dishes. I've proved them wrong, obviously, not that they care. They met me, judged me, and dismissed me, without a second thought; those remarks haunted me. I questioned myself repeatedly, vacillating between self-faith and "But are they all wrong? Or am I the insane one?"

I know I'm being a broken record, that I've been harping about this constantly lately. I know the people who should be reading this probably aren't. But for those who are: 

1) If you have been hurt by such remarks, be strong. All that matters is that you are striving to be a good person and try to be kind to others. Whatever anyone else says is bull. 

2) If you have said such remarks for others "own good," shut up. There is no such thing. Don't be the messenger. They get shot. 

3) There is someone for everyone. I repeat, THERE IS SOMEONE FOR EVERYONE. 

 

4) Ice cream will always be there for you while you are hurting. Wallow in your pain, acknowledge your feelings. Then get up the next day and use your fury to vacuum like a boss.   

How the Other 99.9% Dates

Han doesn't have many Jewish co-workers. If they are Jewish, then chances are they aren't frum. 

It's a very friendly sort of office, the type where everyone sits down chummily for lunch and shares the details of their lives. 

One fellow, Adam, was relating to Han how he struggles with dating. He missed the boat, he said wryly, by not cultivating a girlfriend in college. Because outside of that setting, he can't seem to meet a special someone. 

To go to a bar, he explains, he would require a "wingman," as a lone man approaching women is considered creepy. All of his friends are in relationships, so no one is available to provide that service. The same creepiness factor is present in exercise classes. Dating apps are geared for women, and he hasn't had any success with them.  

Another co-worker, Sheri, is so gorgeous I have a crush on her. She's fit, beautiful, and has a dazzling smile. She keeps three dresses in her cubicle for her dates, often provided by app. She has to meet these guys, however, at a public location as they definitely cannot know where she lives until they have been vetted. But for all her awesomeness she's also struggling to find a partner. 

There's also a quirky fellow in the office. He has been an amazingly helpful friend to Han, but he's, well, as I said, quirky. However, he is engaged now, and you know how they met? 

A co-worker set them up. Meaning, a shidduch date. 

I have read in multiple frum publications and blogs how the shidduch system sucks, that if we could socialize organically we'd be better off, like how the gentiles roll. I have heard it said that "If I wasn't frum, I'd be married by now." But here's the thing: the frei and the non-Jews aren't meeting organically either. A lot of them have dating difficulties, and others are being set up by friends or family. 

I think that the shidduch system, as it is currently practiced, could use a few updated tweaks. I was forwarded a video by Toby Lieder, who suggested that instead of the bland and essentially uninformative paper profile, we start instead with the "talking profile," a video where the person's personality can be visibly conveyed. I like the idea in theory, although I would have been too chicken to do it. 

But these emailed profiles just aren't cutting it. Technology has made our world so much bigger, when once shadchaning was restricted to one's own social circle. Now suggestions are being summoned from all over the globe, from every hashkafa, and one cannot physically go out with all of them before suffering mental and physical collapse. They have to be more targeted. It should not be acceptable to call others "too picky" just because they did not consider a suggestion on point. 

Where was I? Oh, yes. Gentiles don't have it easier. That was my point. Dating, in general, sucks. 

Learning Kindness

I'm wondering when I'll finally get over having been an "older single." I still identify as such, even though I officially left the moniker behind more than two years ago. 

I have recently been filled with feelings of . . . well, I'm not sure how to put it. 

I was single. I was dating for over a decade. Han showed up when he was supposed to show up. 

So, I could have spent those years feeling the way I wanted to feel, that Hashem has my man tucked away somewhere and when the time is right He'll produce him. In the meantime, therefore, I should simply be.  

But that wasn't allowed. Because whenever I tried to invoke Him, I was told, "No, you have to do your hishtadlus." Yet, what is hishtadlus? It means different things to different people. 

1. It means cold-calling "shadchanim." 

2. It means going out with every guy who's suggested. 

3. It means going to singles events. 

4. It means tackling every male within site and demanding marriage or else they will never draw breath again. 

When I executed as much "hishtadlus" that I felt comfortable with, and was still single, we moved on to other territory: What I must be doing wrong.  

I wish I could say I was confident enough to ignore the naysayers, but I wasn't. I would blog about it, listing proofs as to my normalcy, pleading with my audience to concur that I wasn't a freak, right?  

Either way, finding a spouse was on me: I wasn't doing enough hishtadlus and/or I was a nutter who cleaned her toes during a lobby date. 

I could have been more chillaxed in that time, instead of battling breathing-into-a-paper-bag anxiety. I could have seen my life as more than "pathetically single" and, perhaps, have utilized my time differently. Maybe I would have gotten into sourdough earlier. 

I'm doing that annoying 20/20 hindsight thing. Based on parental hopes alone, I would have still been a nervous wreck. But did others have to rub it in? To make me feel like you-know-what? 

Sigh. 

I suppose one thing I have certainly learned is that whenever that judgy inner voice starts piping that it's "their fault," I shut it down. Or try to, at least, which is more than I used to do before. I think I have become a kinder person after being subjected to wagging fingers for a decade. Everyone has their own burdens. Whether it's their fault or not is besides the point. 

So let's be kind.

Online Dating, Revisited

I am not one to speak of online dating, as my experience was rather small in that area. I joined SYAS for a day, then cancelled my membership. 

There is a difference, however, between SYAS and standard dating websites (which I did not join, either, not having the strength for it). SYAS operates on shadchanim setting up dates; standard dating sites have you do the searching for yourselves. 

I read two articles recently on the topic, in the NY Times and Wall Street Journal. The online WSJ doesn't allow any access to content without a subscription, so I'll sum up "Dating Apps Are Making Marriages Stronger." 

The premise is that since one can list exactly what one is looking for, being quite explicit about needs, wants, values, expectations, they are more likely to find someone who is in line with those criteria. When one reads an online profile, one can then choose whether a date makes sense before proceeding. When dating in real life, however, one may compromise or overlook after meeting the person in question. 

One man, who was quoted, went for looks first and foremost, believing everything else could be overcome. When he began to date online, he was forced to sit down and consider what was really important in a relationship. 

"In Praise of Online Dating" has a different message. The author has used dating apps for the past three years and has gone on nearly 90 first dates. 

Yes, online dating can be deeply demoralizing, a parade of indignities that throws into relief not just our self-absorption and banality, but our nihilism too. If I stumble upon one more man who seeks a “partner in crime,” one more “sapiosexual” or “entrepreneur,” I fear I will stomp on my phone. Worse still are the car selfies and nephew pics; the weird proliferation of taco and pizza emojis; the men who take it upon themselves to tell you who you are — “a girl who takes care of herself,” naturally, which always reads to me like a thinly-veiled threat. And above all the ghosting. 

However, she found these dates to have infused an extra zest to her life. 

How narrow was my own existence, I thought then, and how it continued to narrow by the day. But to go on dates with 86 different men is to gain as many windows on the world; it is to see one’s vast city and one’s vast self, if only for a few hours, through the eyes of a stranger one would never otherwise have met.

Additionally, she realized that in her now-dead marriage, she had lost herself; while many dates were soul-crushing, her self reemerged and hardened. 

I can echo the same sentiments. I would march home from a date and be able to voice my values, when before they could have been rather ethereal. I could say, "This isn't going to work for me. I need that."

So often, when dating, we are told to be something we are not. But we are what we are, there is no escaping it, nor is that anything to be corrected or altered. I could meet someone, respect his point of view, but know such an outlook would not work for me in terms of marriage yet still enjoy his book recommendation.