People often ask me, “Are shidduchim harder now? Was it easier to make a shidduch 10 years ago? 20 years ago? 30 years ago? 40 years ago?” (I
guess when they look at this Bubby, they realize that I’ve been doing this for
a very long time.) I, too, sometimes wonder, was it easier back then? Has
anything really changed? And most importantly, why am I still doing this?
While some things have definitely changed, the basic
challenges remain the same. Here’s a short list of the biggest changes that I
have seen in the past decades:
·
There were no resumes.
·
There were no pictures.
·
The boy actually called the girl to set up the first date (what a
concept!).
·
Couples often met at Shabbos tables – accidentally-on-purpose.
The biggest constant is that the need for shidduchim is still as great as ever, and
with our ever-growing population, baruch
Hashem, may be even greater. But not enough people feel they have the time,
energy, or, let’s be honest, the patience to be a shadchan. I firmly believe that everyone can be a shadchan – and should be. The worst that
can happen is that someone says “no thank you” to your suggestion. (This
happens to “real” shadchanim every
single day and often without a “thank you!”)
So, why am I still
doing this? Well, truth be told, I am slowing
down. But every time I say to my husband, “I’m done! I just can’t do this
anymore,” a shidduch goes through,
and it’s like Hashem is whispering in my ear, “You can’t stop yet!”
And let me tell you, there are days when I’m ready to
pull my hair out, but then I let my mind wander to the happy couples I bump
into at school or at Seven Mile Market. But what really keeps me going are the
funny stories – the crazy hashgacha pratis moments. Let me share a
few with you from many decades ago.
The Blond
There was this young man I was helping for a few
years. Let’s call him Shlomo. He was a ben
Torah and a frequent Shabbos guest who was learning and going to college at
night. He had been dating for over five years and was quickly approaching 30.
He wasn’t picky, exactly. He’d go on dates, but he often said “no” after the
first date and wouldn’t explain why.
One day, I decided to be brave and confront him. I
invited Shlomo over for a “talk.” We rehashed his past few dates – too quiet, too loud, too tall, too
short, too old, too young – you get
the idea.
I stopped him mid-sentence and said, “Shlomo, if you
could describe your dream girl, what would she be like? Pick two or three
non-negotiables.”
To his credit, clearly uncomfortable, he blurted out,
“I want her to be a teacher. I feel like teachers care about people and like
children.”
“Okay, smart choice (I’m a teacher); I can work with
that. And…?”
He hesitated, blushed a little, and added, “I really
want her to be blond.”
I paused, then sighed inwardly. “Shlomo, you do
realize that Hashem picks our shidduch,
and it’s usually not based on hair color, right?”
Oy, why do
I do this? I asked myself for the hundredth time.
A few weeks later, I got a phone call from a young
woman from out of state. She had gotten my number from a friend of a friend who
had heard I was a shadchan. We
exchanged pleasantries, and I told her I usually focused on Baltimore girls but
would be happy to speak with her and send ideas her way if I had any.
I asked the usual questions: age, height, seminary,
family, hashkafa. Then I asked, “So,
what do you do for a living?”
She replied, “I’m a teacher.”
A light-bulb moment for me! Hmm… 25, a teacher...
could it be?
Then, totally without shame, I asked, “Are you by any
chance a blond?”
She laughed and said, “As a matter of fact, I am.”
And that, my friends, was that! Okay, maybe it wasn’t
quite that fast, but it ended in a beautiful match, b”H, and a 100 percent true story that never gets old.
The Age Difference
Next up is Zachary (not his real name). Zachary would
visit every summer for a few weeks, working for a kiruv organization. He was a fun Shabbos guest, and we looked
forward to his visits each year. Naturally, since he was a single 26-year-old
guy, I made sure to interview him and jot down all his shidduch info in my trusty notebook. (This was way before I went
all high-tech and switched to computers!)
Each summer, I’d set him up with a few girls, but
alas, it just wasn’t happening. One summer, when my husband told me that
Zachary was back in town, I became determined. He was such a great guy; I just
had to find the right match.
Since it was the summer – and remember, I’m a teacher
– I had the time to meet lots of girls and fill up my notebooks. I grabbed
my collection of notes and started leafing through them, very carefully
searching for someone who met Zachary’s exact criteria. And then there she was – Zelda (not her real name).
I looked at the notes I’d written for her and
thought, “This is it! She’s the one!” I didn’t see her age listed, but I
assumed she was around 21, and as long as she didn’t mind that Zachary was 26,
everything would be perfect.
Zachary said yes, and even though Zelda wasn’t
thrilled with the age difference, she said, “I’ll give it a try.”
Feeling proud of my matchmaking genius, I shared my
success with my husband. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it! Zachary is going on the
best date ever!” I bragged.
But when I told him about Zelda, he raised an eyebrow
and asked, “Doesn’t she mind the age difference?”
I waved him off. “What’s five years?” I said
nonchalantly.
My husband stared at me, wide-eyed. “Five years?!” he
exclaimed. “I know you’re bad at math, but Zachary is way older than that!”
“What? No, he’s not!” I said, flipping through my
notebook to prove him wrong. “Look – 26!
Right here, in black and white!”
He just shook his head. “How many years ago did you
take this info from Zachary? You haven’t updated it in ages!”
I paused. Oh no! I glanced at the date on the cover
of my notebook and almost fainted. What had I done?! Zachary was already out on
a date with Zelda this very minute.
When Zachary came home after the date, he told me he
liked her and wanted to go out again. Now I was in a complete dilemma. Should I
tell him the truth? Should I admit that I made a mistake? Should I call Zelda
and risk everything falling apart? Or should I pretend everything was fine and
just pray they wouldn’t realize the truth?
I decided to call Zelda. Maybe she didn’t like him,
and my problem would disappear.
“Hi, Zelda,” I said shakily. “How did it go?”
“Oh, it went really well!” she said enthusiastically.
“I’d definitely go out again.”
“Great,” I said, not really meaning it. “So, um, did
the age difference bother you?”
“No, not at all,” she replied breezily.
I felt like a coward, but at least they were both
happy…for now. I told myself I’d ask a shayla
if they wanted to continue after the next date, but I was a nervous wreck the
entire time, feeling a lot of guilt. Oy,
why oh why in the world do I do this?
On the one hand, I never really thought age should
matter; on the other hand, I had definitely given them both false information – an honest (read: stupid) mistake on
my part. But still, what if this mistake was supposed to happen?
Fast forward to their second date. They were sharing
more personal details, and suddenly, the numbers and years weren’t adding up.
The truth came out. She wasn’t 21. She was younger. (I know, I know – how much younger? Well, I can’t
divulge everything, can I?) But here’s the punch line: Despite everything, they
both said they didn’t mind at all. And b”H,
they are happily married today with a great story to tell their kids if they
choose to.
As for me? Well, it took me months to update my
notebooks, but I started that very day! After that, I made sure to ask everyone
I hadn’t seen in a while to verify their age.
So why do I
keep doing this? Because sometimes, a little bit of humor, patience,
and of course, a lot of faith can lead to shidduch
miracles. And who wouldn’t want to be a part of that?
