Been There, Dated That

I was born old. I was always told that I reference things “older” people would and that I “think like an older person.” I have no idea wat that means. I think and use references based on life experience and upbringing. People say it’s because I had “older” parents. Excuse me, my parents were in their early thirties when my sister and I were born. But alas, in the Jewish Orthodox world my parents were basically considered decrepid octogenarians because they didn’t marry and have babies in their early twenties. It’s not as if my mom didn’t try. She dated my father on and off for seven years until she got him to commit. I really could be a lot older and wiser now. I grew up with ‘sound advice,’ exposure to what the kids would refer to as ‘yesteryear.’ My parents were just normal people that had their own life experiences and were able to pass on that knowledge to their children. I consider myself the youngest looking wise-person-who-actually-has-the-life-experience to back it up. I never thought I’d follow in my parents’ footsteps in terms of what age I’d get married and have a family. But I did exactly that. And I too was seen as an Old Maid past my prime once I hit thirty. But living my life gave me the knowledge and sense of humor that I have come to love about myself.
I began dating at nineteen years old. I got married at thirty-two. Twelve years trying to stay afloat in the dating pool, hoping not to drown. My husband was the 195th man I dated. Seriously. But just dated, no first or second bases for any players. I was a good Jewish girl and followed the rules, no touching. That doesn’t mean I didn’t go out with creeps that lost the rule book. But I’m lucky, I shot all the losers down safely. The funny part about finding and dating my husband is: we didn’t date. Well, not at first. It kind of just happened because of life events (I’ll get into details soon.) All the ‘single ready to mingle’ weekends, and events I attended, not to mention dozens of matchmakers I met through the years were a waste of time. Of course, I didn’t know it then. I kept seeing the same faces, sometimes a couple of new ones, but often, the same faces at every event I attended. I knew deep down that my husband was not going to be at one of these barbeques, weekends, paint and sips...but where else was I supposed to meet a nice Jewish Orthodox man? And I always had the feeling that a third party, matchmaker, wouldn’t understand who I was and what type of man I wanted to marry. Not that I’m different than anyone else, but how can you sell yourself, which is essentially what you are doing, to a matchmaker in the fifteen minutes or half hour you get to meet them? How can I sardine pack who I am, what I like, don’t like, want and don’t want and every other issue that’s important for them to know about me into a mini meeting in the matchmakers living room or kitchen while their kids run underfoot. That's exactly how our meetings went; children running around, mom/ matchmaker chasing them away and then trying to concentrate on what I was saying and not the strange noises coming from the next room.

Matchmakers or “shadchanim” as they are called in the Orthodox Jewish World are no longer two little bitty old ladies from the “shtetel” (small town) who meet occasionally, talking amongst themselves eating cake and drinking tea saying the tailors’ son may be good match for the butchers’ daughter. Matchmaking has been flipped on its head since those days. It’s a business. Some shadchanim won’t speak or even look at you unless you are able to pay them whatever price they name. And that’s just for meeting them. If they find you a spouse, you need to pay a lot more! They turned matchmaking into a Fortune 500. I never went to those matchmakers. They gave me the “icks.” The matchmakers I had the honor of (being forced) to meet have file folders, binders, notebooks or just plain old papers flying around the house of all the singles they are “trying to help.” Unfortunately, I never met one that used a laptop or even a blackberry where they had an organized file system of the singles they were trying to help. It was unorganized chaos with some matchmakers. In the short or long amount of time you get to meet with the matchmaker, the single has to provide an abstract of their life to someone who may be jotting down notes or flipping pages in his/ her binder while muttering, “Where is that resume.... Oh, I need to call her. I’ll make a note.... It’s in here somewhere...” I never felt like I had all their attention. The good matchmakers asked pointed questions to zero in on what you wanted in a spouse and who you were. The ones that annoyed me were the ones that said, “Just tell me about yourself, your family...” Such an open-ended question. Where to begin? Grade-school, post high school or just the last decade? I found those matchmakers to be the ones with the papers flying and always looking for “that profile I saw yesterday that may be good for you.”