The Gift of Shabbos

Was out of town this weekend, visting (non-religious) family members who live very near an Orthodox community. Walked to a modern Orthdox shul Friday night. Ended up with an invitation to dinner at the rabbi's home.

What a treat and honor. If I can recall the lineup: the rabbi and rebbitzen, 9 children, a son-in-law, and 2 (?) grandchildren, plus us two guests. Much laughter, singing, delicious food, and and good-natured debate among the children in answering their father's questions about Jewish sages, Talmud, etc.

A large house, large family, and large amount of joy and love. Who needs weekend sports, TV, and shopping?

I was humbled once again by a Jewish family's enthusiasm for yiddishkeit and  the earnest and strong desire to fulfill the mitzvah of welcoming strangers.

***

In the years that I belonged to a Conservative shul as a single adult, I never once saw the inside of another congregant's home. I don't hold a grudge; it just wasn't part of the culture. A few of them studied some Torah, but virtually none lived Torah.

In contrast, on my first weekend in my new frum community, I had to take rainchecks for the (too!) many offers of hospitality.

As the gabbai at my new minyan described it, "In the Orthdox world, we treat Shabbos as a gift from HaShem that we appreciate and share with others, and not as a burden and obligation that gets in the way of sports, shopping, and television."

I now know what Shabbat is really supposed to be.

The Cold Shower of Irony

Dinner tonight at the good but expensive local kosher restaurant.

A self-described Irish Catholic waitress there flirts with me every time I eat there, probably beyond the faux flirting required to upsell me and build the check average with appetizers, desserts and second glasses of beer and wine.

The waitress is attractive, funny and close to my age. I'm tempted to get to know her better . . .

. . . but the great irony of a shiksa flirting with me at a kosher restaurant dissuades me from doing so, like a cold shower would do.

So I choose Frumkeit over Yetzer Ra once more. I think I might be returning to the Good Boy whom I used to be when I was younger.

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Friends and Companions

Waiting to drive a new friend to the airport so he can visit his family for Pesach.

He's new to the community and to my shul. He will relocate his wife and kids here after the school year ends in their old community.

Nice guy. Likes live music as much as I do. Plays poker as badly as I do.

But I find myself a little reluctant to make close friends these days. My friends tend to marry, have children, and then have little time for me after that. Not that I begrudge them that.

If I'm lucky enough to meet somebody, I want to make a consistent place at our Shabbos table for singles, like a few people in my community have done for me.

I'm already making effort for other singles, helping to establishing some singles programming in my community,  including a singles shabbaton.

I would like to spare others from being single as long as I've been.

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The Rabbi's Secretary's Daughter

After graduation from college, I looked for an apartment near the new job that awaited me. Saw a Reform shul while searching, and stopped in. The rabbi was not in, but I asked his secretary for ideas on where a young single man in the area might look for an apartment.

She gave me some housing ideas, and said, “When you get settled into a new place, come to Friday night services some time. I want to introduce you to my daughter.”

I went back to that shul after moving into my new apartment and starting work. Didn't see the Rabbi's secretary that first Friday night, but I did see a very attractive woman about my age (the upside of mixed seating).

After services, the president of the shul invited everybody to his home for an open-house reception in a few weeks in order to welcome all the newcomers and prospective members in the community.

When I went to that reception, I saw that attractive women from shul. I introduced myself; her name was "Cindy". We chatted. We flirted. She evaluated my prospects. And she looked me over in a way not appropriate for a (now) frum guy to talk about.

Of course, she turned out the be that daughter of the rabbi's secretary.

A week later, Cindy and I started dating. We got along well, were very attracted to each other, we seemed to be seeking the same things, and her parents seemed to like me.

A recent college graduate herself, she lived at home with her parents, as her first job didn't pay quite enough yet for her to be out on her own. She seemed to be looking to meet a man to marry and with whom she could start a family and establish a household of her own. Perfect for me.

I wasn't feeling love quite yet, but over a few months of a date or two every week, I found myself developing affection for Cindy, and could see us soon starting to date seriously for a while and then getting engaged and then married.

At Rosh Hashanah dinner at her parent's home, I saw the family photos. Cindy was in another room, so I asked her sister about the guy with Cindy in one of the photos. I had assumed that he was a cousin.

Then Cindy's sister accidentally (?) let it slip that the guy in the picture was Cindy's boyfriend who was about a thousand miles away in graduate school. I guessed that Cindy's parents didn't like Mr. Graduate Student very much and thought that I was a better prospect and that's why Cindy's mother had wanted to introduce me to her oldest daughter.

When I talked to Cindy about this, she admitted to the other relationship but tried to explain that it wasn't serious because he was so far away.

I felt slightly betrayed. Not hurt, but just dinged a little more than the Amy Situation in college.

I continued to see Cindy for a few weeks more, but with much less interest and enthusiasm, intending to break things off completely in short order. I was not interested in helping her pass the time until her boyfriend finished his graduate studies. And I wasn't serious enough yet with Cindy that I wanted to ask her to end the relationship with the other guy.

I've always (tried) to avoid casual dating. Not always been successful. But I sure don't do it anymore. My dating has purpose once again.

***

I recently found out that a childhood friend of mine became a Hassid not long after he left for college. He is now a successful professional and a (very tired but) happily married father of eight frum children.

He lives Jewish values, passes them onto his children, and gives them the best possible chance to have and further pass on the kind of happiness and contentment that I have lacked for most of my adult life.

I pray every day to HaShem that such happiness and contentment still remain possible for me. I know happiness is a choice, and since my going on the derech over a year ago, I have chosen to be much happier while alone than I've been in the many years since my last serious relationship.

I'm trying to embrace the life that I didn't plan on. I pray that I can eventually be fulfilled by the life that HaShem plans for me, even if it's not the life that I have wanted.

Some new, close friends in my community have seen big changes in me in the last year. I can see those changes, too. They are convinced that I'll be married within a year.

That makes me smile.

We Clannish Jews

In my day job, I deal with customers and clients around the world by phone and by Internet, with little face time.

"Electric doughnuts", as the bond traders of Tom Wolfe's Bonfire of the Vanities call their faceless customers on the other end of the doughtnut-shaped round mouthpieces and earpieces of their telephone handsets.

There is something disembodied, lacking soul, and dehumanizing about doing business that way and living that way in modern suburban life. I never get to make or see my customers and clients happy.

Today, I realized that I found just the opposite as a consequence of my journey on the derech. In my orthodox Jewish community, I've made friends at all three shuls. They all know of my skills with computers because of our frequent conversations.

I've helped a number of them with their personal and work computers. For free. Because they are my friends and I know how frustrated I get when my computer doesn't do what I expect (I'm something of a computer maven).

I like helping them. To see their faces light up in joy when something works, or when they problem is solved and they can get their documents printed, computer viruses removed, Internet service restored, etc. gives me as much joy as seeing people enjoy my cooking.

When I belonged to a Conservative suburban shul, the congregants didn't want to get to know me well enough to figure out what I do for a living, my computer skills, my hobbies, or my interests. I was the oddball, the anomaly, the untouchable, because I was single.

And we were so spread out geographically because so many chose bigger and less expensive houses further from shul, since we could drive on Shabbos. It would never be practical to merely stop in around the corner to help out a friend. I never bumped into them outside of shul or in a restaurant or supermarket.

So I never got to be involved in their lives.

Recently, one of my new frum friends, Ted, saw me at shul. We chatted during Kiddush. He expressed to me his frustrations with his home computer configuration. So I volunteered to help him. He wanted to pay me since I was a computer industry professional, but I insisted on taking no compensation. He and his wife are lovely people and I wanted to help them out of friendship.

I stopped in on a Sunday morning, fixed his system in short order, and bonded with Ted. It was fun to make him so happy with his computer.

Today, he spotted me when I walked into a local kosher restaurant where he was eating. He ran up to greet me and insisted on buying my lunch and my joining his table. I was a slightly embarrassed by the generosity of his gesture; it's not like I saved a life. But he is such a warm guy, and naturally effusive and charming. He bought my lunch and I sat, ate, and talked with him, his wife, and a mutual friend and had a lovely time.

That simply never would have happened had I remained at my Conservative shul. Nobody would have talked to me, much less about their computer problems or about my computer skills. I would not have visited the same restaurants, because we didn't keep kosher. I couldn't just drive up the street to visit their home; I would have needed a GPS device to find the remote and dispersed residences of people who didn't walk to shul.

Being in a compact Orthodox community means that people see each other, visit each other, do business with each other, shop at the same places, walk to the same shuls, send their children to the same schools, and welcome everybody who commits to the same lifestyle, standards and values.

For me, that kind of connection makes up for the disconnectedness of suburban life and for what suburban living lacks for (non-frum) Jews.

***

As I finish this post, I am at a cafe drinking tea and listening (OK, eavesdropping) to the three women at the table next to me. My kippah sruga (knitted skullcap) prompted two of them to ask the third about the synagogues nearby, and why there were so many Jews, synagogues, Jewish schools, and kosher restaurants and supermarkets in the area.

The Jewish woman of the three then giggled self-consciously to the other two about how she was divorced from a Catholic man, how she grew up celebrating only a few Jewish holidays, and doesn't actually do anything Jewish in her life now, but she did manage to explain that observant Jews live close together near synagogues because they can't drive to synagogue on the Sabbath and "there are all these things they can't do on Fridays and Saturdays."

Forgive my "zealotry of the Baal Teshuvah", but I felt sorry for her. In my opinion, we frum Jews do more of the most valuable things that one can do on a day of rest. We do it with our true neighbors, in real neighborhoods. And during the week, that kind of proximity leads us to "Buy Local, Sell Local" figuratively and literally.

To me, that explains the reasons for the stereotype of Jews being "clannish." I wouldn't want it any other way at this point in my life.

Amy and the "B" Word - Bashert? or Boyfriend?

In public high school, I didn't do much dating (read: almost zero). I played 3 sports, was on the Debate team, and was in honor classes, but I was still shy around girls. I covered it up by behaving in a reserved, serious, and mature manner.

I flirted with the Jewish girls in school and in local USY youth groups, and occasionally lusted after a shiksa or two. I assumed that the right relationship would eventually come my way just because it was supposed to.

Everybody in my immediate family, all my first cousins, and my aunts and uncles met their future spouses in high school, undergraduate school, or graduate school or immediately upon entering the working world. So I naively thought that the same would happen to me.

Though I was not very religious, I was a good boy. I thought, like frum people do, that dating was to find a future spouse, not for casual relationships.

So, I went off to college. Met a pretty, smart, and witty Conservative Jewish girl from Teaneck, NJ in my very first class on my very first day of college. It must have been bashert, right?

Ms. Bashert (“Amy”) sat down right next to me in the only remaining seat in the mandatory freshman English Composition class. We hit it off immediately and spent the semester exchanging that NY/NJ wickedly funny sarcasm and repartee that we Jews from the northeastern US find so charming.

I wasn't planning on getting married anytime soon, but being an optimist, I appreciated the chemistry, connection, and communication, that we shared.

Emboldened by our easy communication, my growing self-confidence, and my ameliorating shyness, I eventually decided to ask her to get together outside of class, and not just for proof-reading each others' writing, as we sometimes did for each other. You know, a date.

I called her dorm room and began to lower her defenses with charming banter about our class, instructor, and classmates. I got around to asking her for a date for a concert in a few weeks.

She said “yes”, but a few days before the concert, it was canceled because of the performer's illness. [A bad omen, no?]

A few weeks later, Amy and I were walking together after class and I again asked her for a date. She said that she would love to get together . . .

… even though she had a boyfriend. At another university. A guy whom she had started dating in High School.

***

 I hadn't understood how she had gone most of a semester without using the “B” word [boyfriend] in our conversations.

So I put some distance between us for the rest of the semester. Undergraduate life went on and for the next four years, Amy and I never shared another class but we bumped into each other from time to time, went out to eat a few times as platonic friends, helped a common friend though a personal crisis, and lived on the same street off-campus for a while.

On the rare occasions that we did spend time together, she flirted with me, probably using me for attention that her long-distance boyfriend could not provide. And I enjoyed the flirting, even though I knew it wasn't going anywhere.

I didn't meet any other woman as interesting as Amy during the remainder of my college career. A few I was attracted to, a few others were attracted to me, but with none enough connection to intrigue me.

My junior year, I did meet and get to know a lovely and intelligent Jewish woman who was in some of my classes and in the same major. She was stuck at school for Passover instead of going home that year, as was I, so I shared with her some of the kosher-for-Passover food that my mother had sent me. She was very grateful. Later in the semester, when I started to flirt with her, she (thankfully) told me right away that she had a boyfriend in Pittsburgh.

Are you beginning to see a pattern?

Next woman in the batting order: The Rabbi's Secretary's Daughter

Dirty Dancing at My Shul?

While waiting for Mincha minyan to start, a long-time member of my new shul told the story of how some changes to shul policy were made.

It seems that for many decades a long time ago, my shul allowed mixed dancing. The current rabbi, when he arrived some 25 years ago, gently suggested a change in policy to prohibit mixed dancing. It created some heated debate amongst the board members, goes the story.

Ultimately, a policy compromise was adopted to prohibit mixed dancing at shul-sponsored events, but private functions for which the social hall was rented could have mixed dancing.

That story made me realize how far I've come. I'm now ambivalent about mixed dancing in general, but I kind of like that it's not part of frumkeit. I still appreciate the athleticism and beauty of classic and modern forms of dance, but I also see how mixed dancing is related to yetzer ra.

***

When I was a young(er) non-observant Jew in the Conservative movement, I sometimes went out with dates and friends for mixed dancing at night clubs. It was a lot of fun, I admit. But it was very wrong in some ways, as I now see, and not the most productive use of time if one is seriously dating for marriage, as opposed to  just having "fun".

Going along with some aspects of pop culture was what I did then, including "Dirty Dancing". I never used drugs, not even once. I tried to avoid casual relationships with women, but I did consume some adult beverages from time to time.

Having inhibitions lowered by alcohol and by primal beat of pop music did indulge my yetzer ra to some degree. I wasn't dating anybody seriously, so it didn't matter, right?

Looking back, the quality of my life and the amount of fun I've had would have been no less had I avoided mixed dancing. I simply would have had different fun.

I had not been acting like the young gentleman I had been raised to be, the serious and "good" boy whom I was when I first got out of college. I had internalized the popular culture values and moved away from the values I was raised with, the values to which I would eventually return as a FortyFrumThing.

The people around me then knew me as a nice guy who could "let his hair down" once in a while without any intent of doing ill.  But it was wrong to allow myself to be tempted by yetzer ra. I just didn't know it at the time, because tznius, shomer negiah, and frumkeit were unknown to me.

***

Nu, I'm glad that there are standards in my new community that are stricter than those manifested in popular culture. Those standards have helped me rediscover the Good Boy that I used to be.

New Phrasing = New Framing

Made a phone call tonight to a single frum woman in another state who was suggested to me by a dear friend in my community.

We had a nice conversation and we plan to chat again soon. But I wanted to write about the golden nugget that she gave me tonight. She said that "disappointments are HaShem's opportunities for us to learn how to better our lives.

***

A seemingly trivial change in phrasing makes a huge difference in re-framing one's view of life.

Last summer, a wonderful rabbi asked me how my new journey on the derech was going.

It had been a rough week. Work was not great, I was less than thrilled with my social life. And  I was wondering why I had become religious (i.e. questioning my decision).

I told that rabbi that I was experiencing a bit of "crisis of faith".

He responded, "Would it be better to describe it as an opportunity to strengthen your faith?"

I was dumbstruck by his reframing of my doubts. I realized right then and there that the power to change our lives to better fulfill HaShem's plan for me lay within us.

***

I'm headed for Refuah Shelemah, and I wish the same for everybody else.

Shavoua Tov

My Start in Frum Dating

Nu, big step for me here. Ready to start blogging on my interactions with specific women

Won't use real names or initials, maybe just fake names or numbers, in order to avoid LH.

#1 was a shidduch attempt just a month after I joined my community, by a wonderful married woman in my community. Her "best friend" was divorced for a while, a couple years older than I am, with one teen and one child out of the house, if I recall correctly.

I called just 24 hours after being given the phone number. No answer, left a voice mail.

A few weeks of telephone tag and we finally connected live.

Had a nice chat until I suggested meeting for coffee. She couldn't because:
1) She was very busy at work
2) She was very busy getting her daughter ready for summer camp
3) She was very tired lately from 1) and 2)
4) She was doing a lot of dating lately and wanted to take a break.

[If all those things were a problem, why had she agreed to her friend's suggestion to take my call?]

I nonchalantly said that I was sorry that the timing wasn't good, and that if things changed I would be happy to hear from her again.

She seemed sincere when she gave a "promise to call when things slow down" and that she "really will call then".

10 months later, I still haven't heard from her. The intermediary has never mentioned her name again to me, and has never inquired as to how things worked out. I'm too polite to ask "what happened to your friend?"

This is another example of the thoughtless shidduch that I previously wrote about. No thought given, in this case, to readiness to date.

***

So when you try to make a shidduch, some thought should be given to good timing.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Values Taught by Example

About to make shacharit minyan at a shiva house. Few things are as important in a community.

When I was a boy and Dad was president of our Conservative shul, we made every shiva call that we could. My immediate family might not have been ritually observant but we made time for people who had suffered a loss.

I learned that particular Jewish value not from Talmud Torah but from the example set by my parents.

Boker tov.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Young and Old; Day and Night

Bad for Shidduchim has an interesting post that *does* at least make some points in favor of old(er) guys like me.

I've made some wonderful friends in my community who are mid-fifties and have children ranging from 3 to 6 years of age.

They and their wives seem convinced that I will be married in about a year or so. The lift I get from their words during our Shabbos meals together is an extra blessing for me.

Decoding "Cute" in shidduchim

As a follow-up my post on The Thoughtless Shidduch, this should resonate with a few people:

"Singletons want to pounce on new prey and don’t have much patience when it comes to meeting their beshert. So take note: When you have a set-up in mind, be ready to facilitate the connection and don’t say 'cute' " - Decoding "Cute" from the Jerusalem Post

If a Tree Falls in the Forest...

If a tree falls in the forest then does anybody hear it? If my life does not make a difference and lasting impact then does my life matter?

I am often complimented on my mentschkeit, my delving into frum life without benefit of a family of my own, and my potential as husband and father. Sounds like something to be proud of, right?

But such compliments create a cognitive dissonance in my mind. If I have such wonderful middos then why don't I have the things in my life that would be evidence and manifestaions of those middos? My emunah is not yet strong enough for me to totally accept HaShem has a plan for me. It would be easier if I knew the details of that plan for me.

***

I attended a shiur during which the rabbi said that to focus on what we don't have is an affront to HaShem because it keeps us from feeling grateful for what he has already given us.

That shiur helped me better appreciate what I do have. But I have a visceral sensation that something is still missing.

I hope that everybody can feel appreciated and important in a way that means something to them.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Self-limits on Appearing in Public as a Jew

Just got back from a great movie. Dark, brooding, portrayals of much violence, some nudity, some foul language. Those things did not make the movie great, but added to the mood. Great story, dialog, acting, symbolism.

And Rated "R".

I did not wear my kippa into the theater. I felt uncomfortable being visible as an frum Jew being seen going in to see such a movie. I was worried about Chillul Hashem.

I have come to greatly appreciate films that make me think. Foreign films, indies, anything but mainstream Hollywood dreck.

But the films worth my time are often not appropriate for religious people who strive to live by and inculcate morals in not reflected in popular culture.

I can't give them up (perhaps more accurate to say that I don't want to give them up). I'm probably inured and desensitized to the bad content, but the edgy, controversial films are the ones that are worth my time.

But if they don't affect my morals or religious observance because I'm used to the "bad" content, should I give them up? Or should I just not wear my kippa and tzitzit when I see them? Or should I proudly go in full-Jew mode to the theater?

Or does the content affect me in ways that I can't see?

I'm happy to hear the opinions of others. If I ask my Rabbi, maybe I'll remember to post a follow-up.

The Making of a Frumster (part one)

My journey towards observance began, of all places, at a Reform shul 15 years ago.

I was a not-so-observant member of the Conservative movement, attending a Jewish singles event sponsored by a prominent Reform shul. The event was not exclusively for Reform movement members, and I valued any Jewish group, activity, or movement that worked to keep Jews attached to Judaism in some way.

At the event, staffed by an assistant rabbi from the shul, pepperoni pizza (!!!) was served. I was shocked, as was a friend of mine who grew up attending that Reform shul.

I didn't keep kosher at the time. But I respected those who did and understood the need for kosher food at Jewish community events.

I was greatly unnerved by what I considered to be naked contempt for Jewish tradition and for traditional Jews displayed by this Reform shul.

I had never studied Reform history and theology, assuming ignorantly that it was just a "lite" version of Conservative Judaism. So the burning bush of pepperoni pizza sent me to study the history and theology of the different movements of Judaism. I found out that Conservative Judaism, in which I was raised, was a rightward reaction to Reform's abandonment of Jewish tradition, ritual, and norms.

I started to wonder: What is Judaism without its rituals and laws? If Torah, Talmud, and Halkakah are "not relevant" to the modern world, then what makes Judaism different from other belief systems? If it's just a bunch of Hallmark holidays associated with special foods and department store sales, then why be Jewish (and thus different from the goyim) if the only things that separate Jews from non-Jews are symbolic, arbitrary, and devoid of unique and significant meaning?

Thus began my slow journey from "Pickle Judaism" (what political pollster and fellow yid Mark Mellman labeled as a cultural "religion" of deli food and seasonal alternatives to Christian holidays when I chatted with him at an airport) and towards Torah.

Though I had not been terribly observant or certain of G-d's existence when Mellman used that phrase with me, I was so repulsed by Pepperoni Theology, despite my respect for so many Reform Jews committed to their Jewish identity and to Israel, that I was sent back in the other direction.

I could no longer respect Reform Judaism as a Jewish movement. It wasn't just alien to what I thought and felt about Judaism, it was also openly hostile to those things make living a Jewish life different from living a non-Jewish life.

Wasn't I hypocritical? I wasn't shomer mitzvot.

But I at least felt guilty about not keeping kosher and Shabbos. :)

***

I had always vaguely felt that I would become more religious when I got married and had children, so I could give them the Jewish education and practice that I hadn't had. It was just a matter of time, it seemed, so I  began putting even more distance between myself and Our Lady of Pepperoni Pizza Congregation and the movement of which it was a part.

A future posting on my movement towards orthodoxy will try to answer the question: Did I reject Conservative Judaism, or did it reject me?

How Sexy Are Tzitzit?

Shavoua tov! Went out to a party hosted by non-frum people after motzei shabbos last night. Had my kippa on and tzitzit hanging out. A woman told me that observant Jewish women find this sexy. Other than proximity of hanging tzitzit to my gotchkes and tuchis, is this true?

If so, why?

Discuss!

Bye-Bye-By-Text-Message

Third post of the day. Just got a text message from a divorced Modern Orthodox woman with whom I have been corresponding and phoning, in anticipation of meeting. Connected via Jdate.

"Hi, sorry I missed your call last night. I think you are a super nice guy but I've decided to get back together with my ex."

I'm tempted to write back, "Ex-boyfriend? Or ex-husband?"

Humorous replies to her text are hereby solicited.

There Will Be No More Lonely People

Second post of the day. Read something that touched me. Gratitude by an (even) older guy for the wonderful young people who have made him a part of their lives.

It touched me because I see a parallel to my own life and the wonderful community into which I've been welcomed.

There Will Be No More Lonely People

***

I remember when one of my grandparents died. What was nominally an observance of shiva seemed to me to be more like a cocktail party than house of mourning. It wasn't for me to tell my family how to mourn, so I took a walk from the house after the funeral to get away from activity and atmosphere that made me uncomfortable.

As a result, I'm thinking of getting involved with the local Chevra Kadisha. I may need its services for myself someday. The young frum people in my community will certainly know what I would want if I'm still living here when it's my time.

Shabbat Shalom

Lies, Damned Lies, and Statistics

Recently talking with a rabbi. He asked about my social life since I became BT. I told him some of the, uh, problems, of dating as a FortyFrumThing.

My married friends seem surprised that singles are sometimes less than truthful about themselves.

On Jewish dating web sites? Via shadchanim? Approval for misrepresentations by rabbis? You bet.

Age: The most common problem.

A friend in NJ tells me that it's standard Jdate protocol in the NYC metropolitan area to confess to "real age" on a first meeting via Jdate.

So here's my formula for estimating actual age: add at least one year to the publicly stated age for each decade of life. :)

30s? Add 3 years, 50s? Add 5. That probably resolves to something in neighborhood of the actual age.

Marital Status: "Divorced" does not mean "has a get but no civil divorce". A woman might be halakhically single, but is not free to remarry [in the U.S.] without a civil divorce.

Frumster.com requires that a previously married Frumster member must have both a get and civil divorce to join ( http://www.frumster.com/faq.php? ).

Yet, two of the three women whom I've met via Frumster.com have mis-stated their marital status (each had a get but no civil divorce).

The two women in question are attractive, intelligent, ambitious, and kind. I would be happy to get to know either of them better, but only after they have settled their civil divorce matters.

Based on my experience in dating divorced women, I suspect that it takes time and some self-growth after a civil divorce decree in order to move past the emotional hurdle of settlement of marital matters such as asset division, child custody, support payments, etc. and thus facing up to a major disappointment in life.

Then, a recently divorced person should spend some time reflecting objectively on the marriage, understanding one's needs and wants, and learning how to trust one's judgment again.

It's no fun to be the rebound guy (or gal).

***

Sometimes schadchanim unintentionally contribute to the problem. They don't know or reveal things that one might not think to ask, such as "How often has she been divorced?" or "Is she spooked that I share a first name with a man who previously hurt her?" or "Does she spend more time with her therapist than on dating?"

And rabbis may be encouraging the problem. More than a few rabbis have admitted to having told women to fudge their age because of the (incorrect) view that *all* men want to meet only much younger women.

***

The ideal woman for me is fully grown, self-confident, self-actualized, and quietly self-confident about who she is and where she is in life. She would hopefully have no reason to misrepresent her situation.

When I became observant, I hoped that I would meet women who were guided by Torah values and thus motivated to not lie. I fully admit that I was ignorantly naive. It turns out that human nature is the same for religious and non-religious people. :)

Before I became frum, I was getting a bit weary of meeting women who are not quite ready to date.

I guess it's true that there is "No rest for the weary"

The Thoughtless Shidduch

I appreciate shidduchim. I've made four (4!!! out of 6 attempts) myself, all resulting in marriages and children, so I'm guaranteed a place in heaven. But I would rather be guaranteed a place under the chuppah.

I've been the target of some kind but not-terribly-thoughtful offers to be set up that I've received since I went on the derech. Many wonderful people in the modern Orthodox community, who have been married so long that they don't recall what it's like to date, seem to think that, "He's single. She's single. It must be a match!"

Thought is rarely given to compatibility of personality and social skills. I can talk with almost anybody about almost anything; I listen, and ask questions and usually get women to open up. If I can't, then the problem is probably not me.

And then there's hashkafa. Many well-meaning people in my frum community encourage me to date women in the Conservative and Reform movements (who do not keep kosher or shabbos) or women who are totally secular. I'm open to future converts and future Baalei Teshuva but odds are that I'm not likely to make a connection with them when basics like Shabbos observance and kashrut are seen as odd and limiting by non-frum people.

***

At least my married male friends try to exert veto power over their wives' bad suggestions. But they inevitably defer to their wives with "It's worth a chance, you never know."

Please, everybody, keep in mind that every disappointing date and shidduch attempt takes a toll on a single person, so put a little thought into it.

And do everything you can to make your own marriages work. You don't want to be "out there". Trust me on that.

Forty-something and Frum

First blog post. SJM, newly frum (observant). In my forties. Never married (not my fault, but that's another post... or many more posts, so stay tuned). No children.

Wanted to provide opportunity for people to read my story as I travel on the derech, get some comments and feedback, and find an outlet for things that I can't easily say to either my not-so-observant family or my new frum community.

Nu... was reading up today on the more liberal wing of modern Orthodox Judaism a la YCT and the more or less centrist wing represented by RIETS. I'm too new to Orthodoxy (having been raised in a Conservative family not observant of shabbos or kashrut) to have a strong opinion on this or to decide how I trend.

I'm very aware that people with an agenda can find or derive obscure halakhic reasoning to rationalize many things that they have already decided on, even if "we don't posken that way" in the majority of the time. So I understand the criticism of "Open Orthodoxy" (and YCT which may be guilty only by association). 

And I'm also bothered by the sometimes automatically reactionary view in centrist  (never mind more machmir) Orthodoxy of new ideas for which there appear to be no explicit halakhic prohibitions.

So far, most of the criticisms of more liberal interpretations of halakha that I've personally heard and read have come from laypeople, not from the rabbinate. None of rabbis whom I've personally encountered in the frum world will criticize each other directly or "throw snowballs at each other" (as a friend joked they might like to do, during a recent big snowstorm).

I like the way things seem to be (at least on the surface) in my community: live and let live. Multiple shuls, learning and outreach centers, a community kollel, etc., with different hashkafot. The rabbis all have different yet complementary skills, personalities, and perspectives. Yet all the community members pull together for each other. They have to because they have children in the same schools, are often mishpachah to each other, and share resources in many ways for learning, mikveh, simchas, shabbatons, etc.

It's very new to me, and I have much to learn. But I like being part of traditional Jewish community, especially this community.

"Success is the best revenge", and it sure seems to me that frum communities are the most successful at transmitting Torah, Torah values, Jewish tradition, and ensuring Jewish continuity. I want to be part of that success.