Unbroken Glass

This story was sent to me ages ago, but I didn’t have the time to actually do anything about it, seeing as I had to get married and then to go to England and then to take care of our little home (Enough! Enough! Stop being horrible! Okay I’ve stopped now). Um, yes. Ignore that bit. So I was thinking of maybe posting reader’s stories again, and we’ll see how it goes.
Enjoy.

Here is the very memorable story of my recent first shidduch:

One thing led to another, and I was set up, via the internet, with him. We exchanged references and a few emails discussing life goals, where we presently were and want to go in our Yiddishkeit. All great stuff. I was super-excited at this prospect, but I wasn?t going to throw my heart and soul into this person I?d never met.

Of course, he didn?t like this. He wanted me to take myself off the market, for months if necessary, until he could meet me. (In case you hadn?t grasped it, this was mucho mucho long distance.) In my naivete, I consented. I consented when he demanded I do not socialize with the only other young, traditional jewish person in my city (who happened to be male). When I say ?not socialize?, I don?t mean ?no more movies? or ?nix on the bar-hopping??that wasn?t an issue. I was not to talk to any men at all.

Did I already mention I?m the only observant Jew between the ages of 10 and 45, with the exception of one male ?traditional? Jew, in my metropolitan area?

So, finally, he flies to meet me. First thing, he?s not ?slightly? overweight as he had so ?candidly? informed me. He?s almost spherical. Next, he?s not 5?8??again, as he had informed me, along with a big schpeil on how ?honesty is so important? to him. I was taller than him, and with my shoes I was only reaching 5?5? at best. Well, let?s not rule him out yet, I think. There are a lot of other things that seem sooooo super great about him.

We do the ?zoo date?, and follow with the ?coffee shop? chat. Overall, I wasn?t bowled over, but the conversation was very nice. I liked so many of the other things about him, that, even though I really wasn?t sure about whether I found him physically attractive, I figured it was too soon to tell, and maybe it was. When he offered to fly me to his city a couple weeks later, I said: ?sure?.

Then things went downhill:

My emotions were a schizophrenic ride of elation and anxiety, and they only got worse. The 2 days prior to my departure, I was physically getting sicker and sicker. After an emergency call to my Rebbetzin, I had regained a portion of my sanity. I realized, I was freaking out because I had NO feelings for this shidduch, and I simply had to remind myself that this second meeting was just for more research. So I prayed and prayed and prayed, said Tehillim until my face was blue, that I?d have some sense of clarity?that I?d feel something one way or the other.

Oh, and clarity did I get! I saw him waiting for me in the terminal, and I knew. Friday afternoon of the weekend visit, I knew. Well, I had a plan in advance. Since I really wanted to use the entire visit to decide, I figured I?d go on as planned and save a verdict for Sunday night at the earliest.

Now, I really didn?t need anymore reason other than that I was actually starting to feel repulsed by his looks. And I actually felt a little bad about it. I don?t think I?m really that picky, and usually the more I like someone?s personality, the more I?m attracted to him regardless of looks. It works the opposite way too. The more I dislike him, the more I am repulsed by his appearance.

Well, things just got worse.

Motzei Shabbos, we were taking a walk, in which he told me how his recent attempt with a ?friend? at opening an accounting business failed. His now-former business partner was caught by the federal government for some very serious financial violations. He personally had not done anything wrong, and the investigators concluded likewise. As the story unfolded though, I kept wondering, how could you not have been the least suspicious that at least something not very conducive to ?business success? was going on? On top of it, I work for the federal government; I don?t want any involvement in shady stuff. That could put my job in severe jeopardy?even if I only do get to work for a couple years before motherhood.

Ok, so then we start talking about his career, or lack thereof. He turned away from accounting, and has been a mashgiach for a year or so. Now, there?s nothing wrong with being a mashgiach, but he admitted he?d ?have to go back to accounting even though he really hates it? because it just doesn?t pay enough. He doesn?t have smicha, so it?s not like he could really climb is way up the mashgiach career ladder.

I?m thinking, great. I?m supposed to depend on someone else to earn a livelihood and be a provider when he hates his job, and hasn?t really done anything to help himself in this career path. It?s not like he?s young and sprightly either, where being at the ?no experience entry level? position really isn?t any cause for concern. He senses my concern, and assures me ?I promise you, that Hashem will always provide for me and my family.?

Well, as much as I love trusting Hashem, I?m also a big fan of that ?He helps those who help themselves? philosophy. So, I say, ?Well, that?s easy for a guy to say. He always gets to work.? He again does the ?Hashem will do everything? speech. I?m thinking, does this guy even want to work? Or is he expecting a handout?

Then, there?s his recurring theme of ?I can?t be as picky as someone from a 7th generation Chassidic family (, but I really wish I could be, and I know I?ll just have to settle in this transmigration.)? Ok, so I added the parenthetical bit. I?m not from a 7th generation Chassidic family either, but I?m at peace with that fact. I don?t gaze longingly into empty dreams of being someone I?m clearly not. Furthermore, if he wants the type of girl who comes from of 7th generation Chassidic family, then why doesn?t he try to go and get her?

Ok, next day, marathon touristy date. Amusement parks?two of them. For hours at park #1, he refuses to choose any attraction, and instead follows me around. So, I try discretely to get him to take the lead, because I?m getting really bored and really tired. I slow down and pause walking just for a brief moment, trying to let him pass me. He stops. We stand. I give up, and just go about my way again. By park #2, I?ve had it, try it again, and, this time, I tell him that I?m sick of picking everything because it?s really tiring. So finally, he starts picking things.

Now, for the only humorous part of the day: He picks this haunted hotel ride. I have no idea what it?s like, but I?m not really picky about rides, and I?ve never been here before, so I?ll go on just about anything. We wait in line, him telling me a much too graphic story about how he gets sick on rollercoasters. (Another repetitive theme is that he likes to give me memoirs of his gastrointestinal life. I repeatedly make not so enthused faces. He apologizes, and before I know it, I get another precious gem from his collection.) A father and his young daughter are in line behind us. They start talking about how scary-cool the ride is. I?m getting a little tense, but in that nice way which actually makes thriller rides oh so thrilling. My date grows quiet.

We start chatting with the father and daughter, and they start describing the ride just enough so you have a general idea of what you are getting into, but not so much that they ruin the surprise. Well, I come to gather that this is one of those multi-story free fall rides coupled with a creepy Twilight Zone story. My tense excitement grows. My date turns greener and greener. I recall his roller coaster story, but figure, hey, HE picked this ride out?not my responsibility. As we?re on the ride, I?m laughing hysterically and loving every moment. He?s pretty quiet. After exiting, we pass the photo kiosk, with photos taken prior to the first drop of each of the groups of riders. There I am, laughing and looking all jolly. There he is, about ready to yarf (an affectionate term my friends and I came up with in high school which only sort of sounds like what it is, and miraculously does not produce a corresponding visual). Now, with all the aforementioned information, this just hammered the last proverbial nail into the coffin of this shidduch. I LOVE rollercoasters. I?m not so into sky-diving or bungee jumping, but can I really live my life without a rollercoaster riding partner? (and why did he tell me he loves ?amusement parks? so much? What do you do if not ride rollercoasters and other stomach in your throat rides, anyways?)

I figure we should call it quits for the day, and that he?ll take me back to where I?m staying. I?ll pack, rest, and only have to see him once more when he drives me to the airport in the morning. B?H for security, and that he can?t come and stalk me until I board.

Oh no, not so!

He really wants to go to dinner. Too tired to disagree, I say ok, and figure it will be better than him sitting in the home where I?m staying re-asking me questions from earlier in the weekend.

While perusing the menu, I ask him what he?s thinking of ordering. I always do this when someone takes me out to eat for 2 reasons: 1) because I have this irrationally compulsive need to know what other people are ordering before I make my decision, and 2) to not be rude by ordering some huge expensive item while he eats a salad. Once I?m in the clear for the entire menu, I really decide I want an entr饠salad with salmon on it.

He asks me what I?m thinking about ordering, and I say, ?Maybe one of these entr饠salads.?

?No! Don?t get a salad; get a real meal,? he replies. The thing was: I really wanted a salad, and I?m not the girlie ?salad 24/7? type. I was hot, tired, and didn?t want some huge meal, but I didn?t want him to think I was a weird only salad girl, so I agree to look over the not-so-extensive menu again.

(At the time, I was temporarily living in a state with NO kosher restaurants. In fact, you have to drive at least 7 hours north to the next state to find one. So, really, the most novel food item is the simple hamburger. I can buy regular meat. I can buy plenty of fish in my city, but that elusive hamburger-on-a-bun is hard to come by!)

He asks me again what I want. I say, ?Well, this is going to sound a little goofy, but I never get to have a hamburger, and I think I really want that hamburger.?

He makes a distasteful face, ?No! Don?t get a hamburger! That?s not a real meal.?

I?m thinking, ?It?s a $14 dollar hamburger meal with 2 side dishes! Sounds real to me at that price! And why does he care so much what I order? He doesn?t have to eat it! I?m not calling him a big chazzer for wanting an appetizer, huge dinner, and dessert, all of which he is inhaling and quite audibly ingesting.?

Ready to strangle him, I start gritting my teeth while I?m diverting my patented death-ray look from his face into my menu. I settle on the lamb-chop dinner. Some tears rise to my eyes because I?m so exasperated. It?s clear I?m very hurt and upset that he can?t let me pick what I want to eat, but I?m playing it cool. I turn off my brain for about 15-20 minutes.

Now, overall, I can?t see how either one of us enjoyed this weekend. Nevertheless, over our dinners, he asks, ?Do you want to come down to visit me for Rosh Hashanah (in about 3 weeks)??

I didn?t want to have the ?if I have to spend another day with you, my brain will trickle out of my ears and my head will implode? talk yet?in the middle of the restaurant where we were very much on display. So I told him that, by Rosh Hashanah, I will be back in school, taking 3 classes, rushing to get research done and a Masters? thesis started, doing random work for my advisor necessary for my funding, preparing for the GRE and LSAT, as well as applying for jobs and Ph.D. programs. I usually work 6 day weeks, which will already be cut to average 5 day weeks during my first month back at school due to the holidays. Add in a trip, I lose 2 more days of work. I just can?t do it.

Well, he just doesn?t understand this, and very condescendingly goes on to try to enlighten me that ?It?s SO easy! Don?t you see?? After the 3rd time he says this, instead of hurling my steak-knife at him, I bite my tongue, and blandly and aloofly say, ?Well, it may be easy for you, but it?s not so easy for me.? He shuts up for a whole 5 seconds, utterly confused, and then goes ?Can I come visit you?? Needless to say, I still didn?t want to see him again, and I didn?t want to discuss it in the middle of dinner. I?m also still seething from his prior condescension, and I?m glaring at my plate just trying to keep my growing urge to throw things and to yell at him from getting the best of me. He finally notices my displeasure, and says ?Oh, I see.? I don?t really know what he saw. He probably saw my ?feeling pressured especially because I?m a girl so things are scarier for me.? Yes, he informed me of that epiphany of his on Saturday night. I assured him that being a girl had little to do with it. And, come to think of it, who was afraid of rollercoasters?

After stalking me as close to the airport security checkpoint the next morning as he could, I escaped into the maze of bag searches, shoe inspections and the like. While Mr. Security was checking my boarding pass and ID, he remarks ?Ah, very nice smile.? I felt a little guilty over rejoicing so much at my departure, but I let it pass. I needed some reason to be happy about missing my hamburger-on-a-bun for another few months.

Written By SecretAgentGirl.