Nose Job = Shidduch?

The Groggers have released their newest single / music video "Jewcan Sam (A Nose Job Love Song)." I like the music, though the lyrics/theme may be a bit much for me. The ending of the story is a little too borderline sketchy for me... but The Groggers' style tends to push the envelope.



Parenthetically, I think the video is funny for presenting the storyline that the guy is the one who needs a nose job, when I typically associate nose jobs being more popular with female folk.

This video brings to mind an interesting and not-often discussed topic: plastic surgery for the sake of getting married.

There ARE stories out there of people "fixing" one little thing about their appearance that then facilitated a successful shidduch. In "The Art of the Date," the section referring to maintaining physical fitness and upkeep of one's looks mentions the story of a girl who asked a guy to have his ears pinned back and a nose job as well (I think - I need to dig up my copy to confirm). After he agreed to her request, they got married and lived "happily ever after."

I once went out with someone who had an element of her facial appearance that I simply could not get over. Every time I went out on a date, I did my best not to focus on that aspect of her visage, but I kept finding myself indadvertendly staring/looking away. I honestly was repulsed enough to consider ending the shidduch because of it. My friend, who was serving as my shadchan talked me out of my hysteria, and after being apart from the girl for a few days due to a school vacation, I decided to give it one more shot.

I mustered up my courage, cleared my mind of all preconceived prejudices against her looks - after all, most everything else, like hashkafa, life goals, etc matched up well - and went on another date.

But in the end, I couldn't keep going out with her. I kept imagining what it would be like to wake up and feel that sense of revulsion boiling up from within the repressed recesses of my mind. I agonized over the decision, but I ended the shidduch.

As many readers know, I was not obsessed with looks when I was dating. I understand, rationally, with the appropriate degree of seriousness, the physical appearances DO matter. You can't try to be a tzadik/tzadaikess and marry someone you feel repulsed by when you think about their looks. No matter how many other things match up on paper or in person, if their appearance continuously turns you off, there's nothing you can really do about it.

Or is there?

Setting aside ridiculous suggestions such as a plethora of plastic surgery operations that would totally reconfigure the look of a person's face, would you ever consider suggesting a more minor cosmetic procedure to a person who you otherwise find fit to marry?

How about a nose job? Eyelid lift? Ears pinned back? Chin reduction? Scar/birthmark removal? Neck wattle removal? What about braces for someone with crooked teeth?

Yes, all these things cost money, time, and are accompanied by a measurement of suffering to one degree or another - but if you're sure this person is the one with the exception of this small physical "imperfection," would you have the guts to talk about it?

Or is it better to be able to fully accept him/her for who they are, warts and all as they say?

Serendipity

Leah stood outside the restaurant, arms crossed tightly against her chest in an effort to stay warm. Her date was overdue. She hazarded a peek at her watch, hoping the maître d' hadn’t already given away their table to one of the other couples that passed her by in the last fifteen minutes. Tired of seeing her breath puffing into ephemeral life and fading into the cold air, she decided to head inside and wait by the sushi bar.

Yoel Dovid hurriedly bobbed and weaved through the stream of pedestrians on the sidewalk. He didn’t need to check the time; he knew he was quite late. He hoped his date would understand that his hectic school schedule sometimes inconvenienced him and often frustrated his shidduch opportunities. Thankfully, he had found a spare block of time to get away and focus on his search for a wife, now entering its sixth year. Turning the corner, he saw the restaurant’s sign glowing in the fading light of the evening. He quickly checked right and left then dashed across the street, flung open the door and waded inside.

The head waiter looked up from his smart phone and offered his most polished smile.

“Do you have a reservation, sir?”

Yoel Dovid pulled his scarf away from his chin and cleared his throat. “Yes, Sandler, table for two.”

“Ah,” the other man skimmed the list on the computer screen in front of him. “You’re late.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Do you still have an open table?”

“Why of course,” the waiter smirked. “Is your entire party here?”

Yoel Dovid searched the restaurant, hoping that his date hadn’t gotten fed up with him and left already. “Yes, I think that’s her right over there,” he gestured toward a tall woman with shoulder-length auburn hair standing by the sushi bar with her back to them.

“Do fetch her then, and follow me,” he replied in a haughty tone.

Yoel Dovid practically ran over to the lone woman. “Hello! I’m terribly sorry,” he greeted her in his most congenial, yet apologetic voice. “I should’ve texted you, but there wasn’t service in the tunnel on the way from school, and I-”

“It’s about time, Yoel Dov-” She whirled around and froze midsentence.

“Leah?” he inquired, lifting an eyebrow in confusion.

“Joel?” Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Is that you, Joel Sandler?”

“I go by Yoel Dovid now,” he briefly looked at his feet. “But, yes, it’s me.”

“I can’t believe it!” Leah fought to keep her surprised ire under control.

“Me either. I never would have thought in a million years I’d find you here.”

“Yeah, I never thought in a million years I’d ever set foot in this place with you again,” she snapped.

“If anyone should be upset, it’s me, not you,” he retorted, narrowing his gaze.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Leah demanded with a terse whisper.

“As if you could forget! After all, you were the one-” Yoel Dovid felt a firm, annoyed tap on his shoulder.

“This way, please,” the maître d' curled a long finger in the air, beckoning the couple forward.

“R-right,” Yoel Dovid stammered.

“Sure, thank you,” Leah added as they quickly followed behind the server.

Upon reaching their destination, Leah and Yoel Dovid both stopped short and furtively glanced at one another.

“Here is your table,” the head waiter gestured with a flourish.

“Is there any chance you have another one available?” Yoel Dovid requested anxiously.

“No,” came the curt reply. “Please sit.” He thrust two menus in their direction and stormed off. The next few moments passed in silence as they sat down and intensely poured over the potential selections. The tension built to a crescendo and both Leah and Yoel Dovid simultaneously peeked over their respective menus. Noticing the other’s stare, they quickly jerked the menus back to their protective place.

Leah released a pent in breath, folded her menu and placed it flat on the table.

“This has got to be some kind of cosmic joke.”

Yoel Dovid dropped his menu with a clunk. “What do you mean by that, exactly?”

“This,” she gestured around them with a circular motion. “Us,” she continued, alternatively pointing toward Yoel Dovid and herself. Yoel Dovid sighed softly, biting back a potentially insulting remark.

Leah wasn’t relenting. “I just don’t understand how this could have possibly happened,” she paused for a moment to think, eyes falling toward her lap. “Ok, I can see how I messed up, since you’re using your Hebrew name now, and I’ve gotten so jaded with dating that I don’t really call references anymore,” she looked up and glared across the table. “But how in the world didn’t you know it was me?”

“Well,” Yoel Dovid began, calmly linking his fingers in front of him. “It’s been a while since we last went out, if you’ll recall. I did happen to go out with another Leah Schwartz around six months ago, so I made sure when the name came up that she wasn’t the girl being suggested.”

Leah opened her mouth to speak, but Yoel Dovid held up a hand to silence her. “And if you’re wondering, as I know you were about to mention, why I didn’t think about you when I saw the name ‘Leah Schwartz,’ it’s because I’ve worked hard to forget about you,” he exhaled slowly, letting the point sink in. “Thinking about us is not something I tend to reminisce about.”

Leah swallowed hard, and Yoel Dovid could tell he’d bruised her ego.

“Perhaps you can now understand just a little what it felt like to be me all those years ago.”

~~~

Joel was bouncing with excitement. Tonight was the night. He’d reserved a table at their favorite restaurant and informed the staff about his special plans. As soon as their waiter saw the predetermined signal – Joel returning from the restroom with his hand in his right pocket – the staff would get ready for the big moment.

Leah looked gorgeous. She even wore that dress of hers that he liked so much. Joel had made sure to wear his contacts, since Leah thought he looked more handsome that way.

“I can’t believe we’ve been going out for nine months,” Leah gushed. “Time really flies when you’re having fun, doesn’t it?” She grinned.

Joel smiled back. “Especially when you’re with someone you care about.” He glanced over her shoulder and noticed their waiter walking to a nearby table with a tray of food. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”

“Sure, no problem. See you soon.”

Gentling tucking his chair under the table, Joel scurried off to the men’s bathroom.  Inside, he turned on the water and splashed a handful on his face. He checked his cell phone and found it to be almost fully charged. Joel knew they’d soon be making a lot of phone calls and sending out rounds of text messages, and he didn’t want to end up like his recently engaged friend whose phone died on him at that most inconvenient moment.

Joel closed his eyes and attempted to calm himself down by taking a few deep breaths. Why should he be nervous? He knew things were going really well, and Leah’s best friend told him that lately Leah had been chatting her up about her own engagement, seemingly indicating that Leah was ready. He bought the ring with his savings, along with some help from his parents, who adored Leah. It was the exact design and size Leah had always dreamed of, or so her sister informed him. Joel had already met with her parents and asked Leah’s father for permission to ask for his daughter’s hand in marriage. The Schwartzes also liked Joel a lot, and wished their future son-in-law hatzlacha, telling him that they looked forward to planning the engagement party.

This was it… It was finally going to happen. He’d met the girl of his dreams and he was finally going to propose. Nothing could be better at that very moment. Steeling his nerves, Joel left the restroom, his hand firmly clenching the small velvet covered box in his right pocket.

Nearby, he caught their waiter’s eye and offered a confirmatory nod. The waiter discreetly flashed a double thumbs up sign and went to the kitchen to prepare for his role. Joel sat down at their table and steadied his bouncing knee with his free hand.

“Did I miss anything interesting while I was gone?” He asked casually.

“Other than me eagerly awaiting your return, nope.”

Well, it was now or never. Joel inhaled deeply and steadied himself.

“Leah,” he began, fixing his eyes on Leah’s own. “These past nine months have been wonderful. I always felt unsure if I’d ever meet someone like you, someone who complements and completes me so perfectly. You’re caring, considerate,and loving…” Joel waited briefly to gather his thoughts.

“You have a tremendous love and respect for Torah, mitzvos observance and chesed, and I believe with all my heart that I could find no one better to be my partner in life,” Joel let the words linger so he could catch his breath. He quietly got up from his chair and kneeled in front of Leah.

Fumbling slightly, he retrieved the velvet box from his pocket, opened the lid, and held it out for her to behold the sparkling contents within.

“Leah Schwartz, will you marry-”

“Joel,” Leah interrupted, an uncomfortable look on her face. “I don’t think-”

“Ah, I apologize,” Joel interjected, and quickly returned to his seat. “It didn’t occur to me that you might be embarrassed to be proposed to in such a public place-”

“That’s not it,” she shook her head rapidly. “It’s just that-”

“Congratulations!” Beamed their waiter, and presented Leah with a bouquet of bright red roses cradled in the crook of his arm.

“Th-thank you, that’ll be all,” Joel said tersely as he snatched the flowers and slipped the man a five dollar bill.

“Oh, but what about-“ The waiter turned to indicate the other servers who were rapidly approaching with a bottle of champagne, two long necked champagne flutes, a fancy cake that said “Mazal Tov” in icing on the top, along with Joel’s camera. Leah looked mortified.

“Not now,” Joel insisted, holding out a hand, fingers splayed. “Please give us a moment.”

“But of course!” The waiter chirped. “I’ll let you enjoy some privacy first.” He spun on his heel and shooed away his fellow employees.

Joel stuffed the flowers beneath the tablecloth and let them fall onto his shoes. He sat up stiffly, licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry and managed to ask, “What’s wrong?”

She refused to meet his eyes, her brow was furrowed with worry.

“Leah?”

“Joel… we can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

“What do you mean?” He leaned forward, his voice faint.

“This isn’t going to work,” Leah slowly shook her head. “I know we’ve had a great time together, but I don’t see this going anywhere in the long run.”

“Well, this is a bit sudden, isn’t it?” Joel raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“It really isn’t,” her jaw tensed and she looked up. “We’ve talked about this before.”

“Talked about what, exactly?”

“Where we’re going in life. I know what my plan is, and I’ve been accepted to grad school-”

“And I’m going to go to medical school! You know that. And if you’re suddenly going to say you can’t handle marrying a future doctor, I know you’ve considered that already since your father is a doctor, and-”

“That’s not it, Joel,” Leah bit her bottom lip. “You’ve been saying that you want to go to med school since we started dating, but you’ve barely made an effort to start studying for the MCAT, and I know all about that bad chemistry grade that might foul up your application chances.”

“I have every intention to ace that test. I even bought a study guide last week. And that grade won’t mean a thing once they see my overall GPA, the research and my impressive MCAT score.”

“Joel, you don’t even have an MCAT score. You graduated college almost a year ago and you’ve just been working as a lab tech. To me, that doesn’t show serious commitment or the ability to support a wife and family.”

Joel winced. “But-”

“No buts, Joel. We have talked about this before, and you definitely should know I’ve been worried about you,” Leah pursed her lips. “But I can’t keep being your cheerleader as I progress in life and I don’t see any effort on your part to make good on your promises.”

“Leah,” Joel briefly closed his eyes. “You’re right, I did say I was going to start studying three months ago, but then things got busy at work, and we’ve been going out a lot, so I-”

“Joel, please stop with the excuses. I really like you and I can tell you like me. But, it takes a lot more serious commitment to make a marriage work, from both the practical and emotional standpoints.” Leah stopped, seemingly unsure what came next.

“Well, this is a fine way to break up with me,” Joel barked sarcastically. “In our favorite restaurant, on our anniversary, no less.”

Leah recoiled as though she had been struck. “Look, you were the one shoving a diamond ring in my face without ever bringing up the subject of getting engaged,” she fired back, her voice wavering with exasperation. “You can’t just assume that since we’ve been dating for close to a year that we’re going to get married!”

Joel moved an elbow onto the table. “If you’ve been thinking about ending things, then why have you been all cheery and smiling tonight? Have you been faking it, waiting for the right moment to break my heart?”

Leah’s upper lip trembled. “How could you say that Joel? I had no negative intentions coming into this date. I wanted to have a good time and celebrate our anniversary,” she wiped back a tear. “And now you spring this whole surprise proposal on me, almost making a scene in the restaurant, and accuse me of breaking your heart?”

“That sure seems like what’s happening from this side of the table.”

Leah sniffed and dabbed at her eye with her napkin.

“And if you were so darn sure that I would never change, why are you still going out with me?”

Leah inhaled deeply, trying to compose herself. “Because there is a part of me that really believes in you, cares about you… even loves you,” the tears trickled down freely. “I couldn’t bring myself to do anything decisive, I was scared. We had spent all this time together, seemed to get along so well, but this major red flag wasn’t going away, no matter how hard I tried to encourage you and believe that things would change.”

“Leah,” Joel began, his tone softening.                                                 

“No, Joel… it’s over. I knew that deep down this couldn’t work without me believing in you, or the possibility of our future – a secure future – with all of my heart. I’m not going to sit around waiting for you to make the right move and prove yourself, I’ve done that enough already.”

“Leah,” he repeated weakly.

“I… I have to go. Goodnight.” Leah pushed her chair back, swung her coat around her shoulders and hurriedly went out the door.

“Leah…” Joel murmured aloud to no one.

“Oh, has the future missus gone to the restroom to adjust her makeup?” The waiter inquired, suddenly reappearing with the cake on a tray and Joel’s camera dangling from his wrist.

“No. She left,” Joel said, not even bothering to look up at the man.

“Ah,” he pulled at his collar uncomfortably. “I’ll just wrap this up then and bring you your check.”

Under the table, Joel's foot stomped the bouquet of roses.

~~~  

Leah and Yoel Dovid sat in silence.

“I never would have thought you’d actually be in med school,” Leah remarked casually.

“I never thought you’d still be single,” Yoel Dovid countered, his voice even. “I would’ve bet you’d be married by now with a few kids.”

“So did I,” Leah replied meekly.

The quietness engulfed them again.

Unexpectedly, Yoel Dovid chuckled to himself.

“What’s so funny?” For some strange reason, Leah’s own mouth puckered into a slight smile.

“This,” he waved around the room. “Us,” he pointed alternately at himself and Leah.

“What do you mean by that?” She stifled the unexpected giggle building in her throat.

“What are the odds that we’d meet back here, five years later, just a few weeks short of what would have been the night we got engaged?”

Suddenly, Leah’s mind was reeling. Had it really been five years?

“And at this very table, no less,” she said, looking down. When she raised her head, she was actually smiling. “I thought you said you don’t reminisce about us from back then?”

“I don’t,” he licked his dry lips furtively.  “But that doesn’t mean I forgot you completely,” Yoel Dovid gazed deeply into Leah’s eyes. “No matter how hard I tried to.”

“Well, I still remember how romantic you used to be,” she grinned. “I guess you haven’t lost your touch over the years.”

“So,” Yoel Dovid twiddled his thumbs.

“So… what?” Leah noticed his awkwardly busy hands and laughed to herself.

“What have you been up to since the last time I saw you?”

Leah felt barriers she had built up inside her crumble and come crashing down. Walls she had erected to keep out certain feelings and lock others away turned to dust and vanished in a puff. She felt freer and more at peace than she had in a long time. Judging by the way Yoel Dovid was playfully smirking, she thought he might have experienced a similar cathartic release.

Taking a deep breath, Leah launched into her recent life story, full of its own ups and downs, woes and joys. Yoel Dovid listened intently, throwing in the occasional comment or joke, and in turn recapped his own history from the past five years. Leah was absorbed with his exposition, and began to feel as though they were the only two people in the entire restaurant.

Before they knew it, they were laughing and smiling together like old times.

“Do you remember that time Avi tried to get you to set him up with your friend Ally?” Yoel Dovid asked in between mouthfuls of pasta.

“Man, what a disaster that was!” Leah put her fork down, trying not to choke as she cracked up from just thinking about Avi pining after Ally.

“Ahem!” A loud voice declared, almost causing both of them to jump from their seats. They whirled around to face the maître d’, who stood next to them with a ramrod straight posture holding an index finger to his wristwatch. He tapped it three times with great annoyance.

“We are closing in ten minutes,” he indicated the otherwise empty room. He reached into the pocket of his apron and flung a leather bound folder onto the table. Yoel Dovid quickly snatched it up, extracted a credit card from his wallet, and returned both to the waiter. “Thank you, sir. I’ll return shortly,” he quipped, spinning on a heel and retreating to the register.

“Well…” Yoel Dovid grinned ever-so-slightly as a wild thought popped into his head. “Want to go see if the old ring still fits?”

Leah was flabbergasted. “What do you mean…?! You still have it?”

“It’s funny, actually...” He leaned back in his chair and stared absently at the ceiling.

“W-what’re you talking about?”

“It’s been sitting in my glove compartment for five years.”

Leah’s jaw dropped. “You’ve been driving around with that expensive thing right there, ready to be stolen all this time?”

“I threw it in there that last night we went out and never wanted to see it again. I guess I forgot about it and kept piling other things on top of it,” he lowered his gaze to Leah’s face. “Like I was trying to bury the past.”

“And you randomly thought of it just now? That seems like a little too coincidental for me,” Leah crossed her arms over her chest.

“The truth is, I finally started cleaning out my car this week after my last date complained how messy it was. It just happened to be that today’s cleanup project was the glove compartment.”

The waiter reappeared with the check and set it down with a belligerent harrumph. Yoel Dovid quickly calculated the tip and signed it before turning back to his date.

“I figured that while I was in the city I’d take the ring to a pawn shop and get rid of it after my date was over.”

“I really can’t believe that, you know,” Leah winked slyly.

“That’s exactly what happened!” he exclaimed defensively. The outburst faded into silence, and neither one could manage the courage to look at the other. Swallowing hard, Yoel Dovid’s eyes lifted and focused on Leah’s.

“What do you say?” He asked, an edge of excitement creeping into his voice.

Leah hesitated and bit down on her lower lip. The fire in Yoel Dovid’s eyes began to fade.

“Yes. I’d like that.”

Yoel Dovid’s face lit up in the biggest grin Leah had ever seen.

"But The Silence Was Unbroken, And The Stillness Gave No Token"

Bonus points to whoever can tell me where the title of this post comes from without Googling it.

I think one of the most dreaded moments on any date - especially a first or second date - is the moment of awkward silence when conversation grinds to a halt for one reason or another.

The question to ponder is: do these bits of silence mean anything negative?

I’m not referring to the prolonged silence that lasts for minutes upon minutes with both people squirming and wishing to be elsewhere. Rather, the occasional pause where you just can’t find any words to bring forth into the conversation.

I’ve read/heard very different perspectives on exactly what these quiet moments mean. The general consensus is that sitting there dumbfounded is not the best thing to happen. A more yeshivish dating advice book that I was perusing recently basically said to avoid silence at all costs, and that quiet spells indicate DOOM (yes, all upper-cased).

I’m not so sure I can agree with that. From my own experience, it seems that there are quiet times where discussion fades off and that occurrence is totally natural and normal. Such silences are not necessarily harbingers of death (for the relationship that is).

But then again, sometimes they are.

I was once on a date where these pauses arose a few times toward the end of the evening, first at the very end of our meal, and then slightly more extensively when I was walking my date back to her apartment. I reported back to the shadchan that I was a little concerned that she might not be interested in another date. The reason this idea even arose in my mind was based on two previous experiences where such little moments of silence appeared during a date (in one case a second date, and the other at the conclusion of a first date) wherein the girl ended things in an abrupt fashion immediately thereafter. I had seemingly developed a sense of paranoia for these bits of quietude. However, even in spite of those two short-lived shidduchim, my fears were for naught, and I was granted another date.

In retrospect, I’m surprised at myself for losing sight of the fact that short, quiet moments are not inherently bad.

I once was going out with someone who was quiet in the extreme. Almost every outing made me feel like I was having a one-sided conversation. The typical short periods of silence were rather extended, very much akin to the real ill-natured, awkward silences that indicate a lack of connection. I was initially frightened by this, also taking it as a sign of disinterest, but the shadchan assured me this was just her nature. I grew to understand that the shadchan was indeed correct. The person I was going out with was simply a very thoughtful, intelligent person who took time to measure her words carefully and very rarely said anything that was half-processed or simply thrown out to continue the conversation.

I learned that moments of silence can be quite natural and not disconcerting one Shabbos morning when I was walking to shul with my father. Coincidentally, this happened to occur during a school break that interrupted the aforementioned “silent type” girl I was going out with. Of course, my father and I chat a good bit whenever I’m back in town, and when we’re walking to shul for shacharis, is a time when we can have some father-son bonding time. The cool morning air, sunlight shining everywhere, and birds flitting to and fro chirping from the nearby trees creates a peaceful atmosphere conducive to conversation.

As we walked along, I realized that our dialogue was beginning to peter off, and momentarily worried about the silence that would follow. When we actually ceased talking and simply continued walking side-by-side, I realized that this quietness wasn’t really awkward at all. I was perfectly fine simply enjoying being in the presence of my father and observing all the flora and fauna around us. I simply took a deep breath of fresh morning air and released all the built up tension I had been expecting.

I knew then that the same thing applies to dating. Not every minute has to be filled with words, especially if you have to spout meaningless dribble to maintain an ongoing conversation. When the break was over and I went back to my shidduch, the quiet spans no longer bothered me as much, and sometimes not at all. Granted, this girl was definitely far less talkative than pretty much any other person I went out with, but learning this lesson during a more “extreme” case of recurring moments of silence certainly helped later on with other dates. After that point, I began to appreciate the bits of quiet that cropped up here and there during time spent on shidduchim.

Even in marriage, you won’t be talking constantly, and it is a pleasure to simply enjoy the other person’s presence, knowing that he/she is there beside you. There is a sense of comfort and belonging knowing that you can be with that other person and not need to continually throw out conversation starters merely for the sake of preventing gaps without any talking. If you can be at ease with a person in these moments, and learn to properly appreciate them, especially as the relationship develops (and excusing the few awkward ones at the start of a courtship) I think you’re on the road to discovering how well you really enjoy merely being with that person.

That is definitely a necessity for marriage – since interesting and engaging conversation isn’t going to happen all the time in real life anyway.

So I vote that we should welcome bits of silence, quash feelings of awkwardness, and see if we can appreciate the feeling of being accompanied by someone we can, and should care about. That unspoken emotional connection is very important.

May we all find that special individual for whom silent moments are not a burden but a pleasure!

HaShem: The Ultimate Cabbie

SternGrad's recent post about the 3 things she wishes she knew before she starting dating made me recall a mashul that a married friend of mine once told me.

I think my friend best summed in up in a mashul she heard from a rebbe once. She related it to me in the midst of trying to set up a shidduch I was very interested in, but ended up not working out.

Basically, dating and getting married is like getting into a taxi cab. There are two ways to go about getting to your destination. 1) Be a backseat driver, and try to tell the cabbie what to do every step of the trip - exactly where to turn, when to stop, etc. You will probably get to where you're going, but it will be a very frustrating experience. 2) You can tell the driver your end destination, and let him pick the route - in short, you trust his expertise to get you where you're going. In the end, you'll make it, and with far less stress on your nerves than trying to constantly direct him.

So too with shidduchim. You can try to arrange every situation to your advantage, getting the "right" shadchan, pursuing the one "right" suggestion ad nauseum, getting the "right" look, etc. Or you can be who you truly are, do you what you need to do, but don't commandeer the situation at every opportunity. In the end, G-d, the ultimate "taxi driver" gets you where you need to go, and who you need to be with.

And as always, don't forget to tip the Driver...

Saying "NO," Now Available Without Artificial Sweetener

An anonymous female reader submitted a letter to Matzav.com that discusses her recent experiences with being led on by her dates, who gave off the impression that they were having a good time and wanted to continue going out, but then proceeded to give her "the talk" then dumped her, or just dropped her via the shadchan.

I am very much against the idea of giving false impressions of continued interest, building up a person's hopes and then dropping a bomb on them that shatters their expectations. It's not nice, it hurts, and people who do that need to develop a greater sense of being considerate of the feelings of others.

However, I also wrote about making sure the girl always has a good time, which created some discussion in the comments with points similar to this girl's letter on Matzav. I think the author of the letter is correct that a guy has no right to play with a girl's emotions on any level, especially if he is falsely projecting a positive, "I see this going somewhere" aura.

If you're going to go on a date, regardless of which number the date is, both guy and girl must be open minded about the possibility about continuing, but realizing that there may not be a future either. Going on a date with a foregone negative conclusion in mind is just wrong. It's a waste of time and energy. It drags on the emotions and really serves no constructive purpose whatsoever.

One of the most tenuous things about shidduch dating is that until you've had The State of The Union Address, the ongoing relationship is very "touch-and-go" and could literally end after that evening's date. It's a part of the system that is both good and bad. Good, because it shows you're dating l'toeles with the goal of marriage in mind, and not just to have fun with someone of the opposite gender. Bad, because this can be a bit nerve-wracking, given that there is no real guarantee of a future in the relationship until you've had that serious talk about where "we" are going. At that point, instead of simply thinking about your own perspective and perhaps discussing your feelings with the shadchan or a dating mentor there is a real "couple" of sorts that has potential. That's when the barriers begin to really break down, and the concept of "us" is even tangible.

However, as I wrote in that post, even a positive outcome from that conversation doesn't mean that this is it. Nothing is certain until he gives her an engagement ring, and even then, as many people are unfortunately/painfully aware, engagements can be broken (I won't go further and mention how divorce is always a possibility, because no one ever wants to experience that - better a broken engagement than a get).

Life is filled with uncertainties of all sorts, but we should all make an effort to lesson the anxiety that is often part and parcel of the dating process. True, a lot is on the line when it comes to shidduchim, but that doesn't mean we have to be uptight about every aspect. Nor should we go to the other extreme and make believe that things are always so amazingly positive that we can give off a false impression to the other person. As Rambam is often quoted as saying, the shvil zahav, or golden mean is the objective means to properly conduct a successful shidduch campaign, causing as little hurt as possible (though no doubt any rejection causes pain) and G-d willing you too will come out at the end of the journey with a travel buddy for life.

The Forlorn Birkon

Packing at the end of a school vacation, be it Yom Kippur-Sukkos, winter, or Pesach is always a scramble at my house. I end up multitasking (or attempting to multitask) a number of different organizational activities as I simultaneous do my best to fit everything into my suitcase(s).

As I was cleaning up my room (a bit) on Sunday, I came across a few bentschers that I recently collected at friends' weddings and brought back home in an effort to create more desk space in my dorm room. I have a growing pile of these bentschers sitting on a bookshelf that are currently unused (we have more than enough bentschers in the family collection as it is). My intention is to get a head start on my own future home’s collection of bentschers – I figure, why should I wait until I’m already married to begin collecting bentschers (starting with a batch from my own wedding, as many people do)? The fact that a LOT of my friends are already getting married while I’m still dating only serves to further motivate my little hobby.

Every now and then I browse through my collection as I keep track of, and continually add to, this amalgamation of differently styled bentschers. This time, as I flipped through a handful of bentschers, fondly recalling memories of happy celebrations, I found one bentscher that stood out from the others. It was a bentscher from a wedding I went to over a year ago… and the couple recently divorced.

Then the thought hit me: what do I do with this bentscher?

Sure, I could say that odds are neither my friend nor his ex-wife will ever see the bentscher (more likely the ex-wife than my friend) when I get married and have guests over. This is especially true if I don’t ever live a part of my married life in Washington Heights or in the tri-state area, where both of them are from and will probably settle down (may each find their proper spouse soon).

There is also the issue of possible secondary offense generated by guests who know either person, and may even have been in attendance at the wedding as I was. This affects a significantly larger group of people, given that Jewish Geography is what it is. Admittedly, the moment of discovery would be awkward, once my guest takes a look at the names and realizes what occasion the bentscher is from, but the impact of the situation would be far less significant. The guest may also choose not to say anything, mistakenly think the bentscher is from one of their second weddings (having not kept in touch to really know it’s from the first), or fail to observe the names on the bentscher at all.

Even if odds favor that neither my friend, his ex-wife, nor anyone who (at that time) currently knows them well will recognize the bentscher and say anything, the very idea of owning it and keeping it in “circulation” at my Shabbos table makes me uneasy. Not that that the poor little booklet is cursed or something. Rather, this predicament is similar to what I did with the pictures on my computer from that wedding after I found out that they got divorced. I deleted all the photographs that depicted either my friend or his ex-wife (and certainly any that showed them together). The reason why I did this was because they no longer generated pleasant memories, or made me think about the simcha of the wedding that has since been tarnished/replaced by the sadness I feel on behalf of my friend’s misfortune (his ex-wife too, since neither should have had to suffer such a terrible pain).

Nor are those old pictures historically relevant. What purpose do I have in preserving a record of an ill-fated union? It’s almost like (in a more secular sense, though again, indirectly) someone decided to save pictures he had taken with his ex-girlfriend. Granted, they’re not pictures of me and an ex, but I still feel pained on behalf of my friend and his ex-wife.

So what DO I do with this bentscher?

I could keep the bentscher and not do anything at all, which I think I’ve demonstrated doesn’t really solve the problem.

I could conceal/deface the writing on the front – though I’d probably go with using a mailing label and either leave it blank or create a different occasion to advertise instead of taking a Sharpie to it. At some point, I know a guest would probably ask what the deal was with this particular bentscher, foiling my attempt at concealment.

I almost feel as though I should get rid of it entirely… maybe have it buried with sheimos or something so I don’t have to deal with it anymore. I wonder what my friend and his ex-wife (and their respective families) did with their large share of the mementos. I suspect there is some formal process that a printer/distributer could do to re-cover misprinted/no longer needed (such as from a broken engagement) bentschers, since most mass-produced-simcha-related bentschers often have a generic white cover that is then printed over.

Although I am aware of other recent weddings among acquaintances that have ended in divorce, this is the first, and Im Yirtzeh HaShem, last, bentscher of this sort that I will own. I don’t want to confront this dilemma ever again…

Any ideas?

P.S. Yes, I realize that I only used the Hebrew term "birkon" in the title. I really use "bentscher" while speaking, but "birkon" sounded better for the title...

P.P.S. I am still hard at work on the second (and last) part of the “Exodus” story. I hit a snag running into the last few days of Yom Tov, finishing up school work, temporary loss of inspiration, structural conflict, and general end-of-vacation zaniness. I should finish it in the somewhat near future... so look forward to that post soon. And if you haven't read it yet, please do (and comment!), despite it's no longer inyanei d'yoma nature.

Alternadating

Standard shidduch dating mandates that the guy and girl go out together to some venue or participate in an activity, but without any other person involved. True, the shadchan is involved (at least at the beginning) to function as the communications field officer in coordinating battle plans and exchanging emotional sentiments, but he or she does not actually go on the date with the couple.

However, are there alternative combinations of the principle participants on a date?

I’ve heard of cases where parents accompany their respective children to the date, and sit off to the side talking amongst themselves while their kids, sitting within eyeshot, do their best to act normal. But that’s just incredibly awkward, and certainly does not make the situation/decision any easier for the guy and girl involved.

I am also not referring to a case of a third-wheel-date (if it can be called such a thing) between a guy and two girls, or a girl and two guys (this scenario is too much like a terrible reality-esque dating game show on MTV that I’ve heard about).

Consider, if you will, the idea of a double date. Though entirely standard fare in our parents’ generation (at least for some of our parents), and perhaps somewhat common amongst married couples looking for a fun night on the town with friends and away from the kids, does this ever happen with our generation? Regardless of what Orthodox social circle(s) you may travel in (with the exception of the more liberal modern types), I bet anyone reading this would be hard pressed to recall an example of such dating behavior.

As I see it, there are two problems with this idea (from the standard approach).First, it destroys the cardinal rule of privacy on a date. Heaven forbid that you should bump into your neighbor/aunt and uncle/roommate/chevrusa/mother’s yenta-friend on a date, not to mention the acknowledged though tactfully side-stepped encounter with a friend who is also on a date. Why would anyone ever think about purposefully infringing upon the sanctity of the “it takes two to tango” rule? (I just made that up, by the way, so feel free to make is a new lingo-term if you’d like).

Second, at what point in the dating process do you take part in such double-dates? Once you’re engaged or married, I see little point in participating in such an endeavor, since the exercise becomes a mere social activity. Certainly, attempting such a feat during the earlier stage of dating, where the shadchan is still active in the proceedings, would be inadvisable. But what about the stage after the go-between has been dropped and there is some substance to the relationship? Chana Levitan, in her recently released I Only Want To Get Married Once (expect a review of this wonderful book soon) has a whole chapter (#5) titled “What do people you are close to have to say about the person you are dating?” She writes there that friends’ opinions can be really enlightening, to either confirm how great your date is, or to yank the rose-colored glasses from your starry-eyes to alert you to problems/red flags you choose to ignore.

One friend did this with a girl he was semi-seriously dating. A friend and his wife were in town, so he took them out to lunch with his date. Afterward, he asked his friends what they thought, and they didn’t really seem to get a real impression at all. Shortly thereafter, he invited her over for a family get together, and asked his parents what their impression was. They also replied that they couldn’t really read anything from her, good or bad. Turns out she was hiding a lot of issues and was shielding them behind a façade – which lead to a painful break-up a while later.

Related to that, I don’t think double dating with any just other couple (even friends) would be a good idea. I would suggest that the other couple involved should be married (as in my friend’s case) or engaged – otherwise you might end up with one of those awkward, illicit TV drama stories where they switch dating partners or whatever. This venture, in my mind, is meant to give a little sampling of a greater experience as a couple, to see what things could theoretically be like down the road. For better or worse, I presume the guy and girl would learn something about themselves and their relationship.

One friend almost had an n-tuple date (n standing in for any particular positive, whole number) with his fiancée and her friends. The plan was to meet at Starbucks so he could be introduced to her many BFFs who had heard so much about him from her happy-go-lucky engaged babblings (this was before their vort). After some consideration, he gracefully declined, which I think was the smart thing to do. I imagine that would have been incredibly awkward.

One last idea, courtesy of my younger sister: She once found out I was dating the older sister of a friend of hers from her year in Israel (if that was confusing, the two older siblings of friends were going out). She suggested that we all go on a “double date” so that each of the younger sisters could meet/get to know the older sibling’s significant other. It was a cute and novel idea, but I flatly turned down the offer. Mind you, my date and I were not anywhere near engagement and had only been going out for one month. True, my sister probably just loves me and wanted to know all the ins-and-outs of my dating life (she still does), but I think that would have been rather awkward. Maybe if things were a bit more serious…

Anyway, would any of the readers seriously consider something like this (or the other double-date idea)?

Genetic Testing: A Layman's Summary

The topic of genetic testing within the realm of dating/marriage came up in a series of comments on one of Bad For Shidduchim’s posts a short while ago (I forget which one, sorry). Most people who replied knew some things but not much. The focus was discussion of Dor Yeshorim, and open testing was barely mentioned. Having had some experience planning and running genetic screening events at YU, I will now attempt to give my non-professional break-down of the issues involved and why this is such an important part of the overall shidduchim process.

I also highly recommend listening to this lecture/shiur that just took place at YU which features a presentation by a licensed genetic counselor followed by Rav Willig speaking about the moral/halachic imperative to get tested before marriage.

Why is genetic screening significant? Children are produced within marriage by a fusion of a pair of genes, one side from their mother and one from their father. Every ethnic group has some sort of genetic mutation in their group’s overall DNA spectrum that features certain genes that don’t work and thus can cause problems. Generally, genetic testing deals with recessive disorders, which means that you need a copy of the defected gene from both parents to display the symptoms of the disease (as opposed to a dominant disorder, wherein one copy of the gene will make child affected by the disease). Someone who only has one of these mutated genes along with a healthy copy of that gene (one from each parent) is called a carrier – meaning that they are unaffected by the disease/syndrome coded for in that aberrant gene.

Percentage wise, for two parents that are carriers of the same disease, 50% of their children will be carriers (but unaffected), 25% will be totally free of the affected gene, and 25% will be born with the disease. So basically, with a couple wherein both the husband and wife are carriers for a particular disease, they run the risk of a combination of their egg and sperm that will produce a child that suffers from a potentially or actually fatal genetic disease. Back in the day, before we had advanced our level of scientific study to the point where it stands now, the children that result from a marital union were really the luck of the draw. As such, there were unfortunate couples that had a number of children who died (often early in life) due to the manifestations of these diseases.

Clearly, this is an extremely serious matter (listen to the shiur for the full halachic perspective from Rav Willig).

At present time, we now have the technology and scientific knowhow to check the genetic code of a particular individual and identify whether or not they “carry” genetic coding for these recessive genetic diseases (such as Tay-Sachs or Gaucher’s). As such, young men and women can be equipped (and I’ll explain the two different means of testing in a moment) to avoid heartbreak and personal tragedy by not dating and marrying a spouse who would (if they married) greatly increase the statistic likelihood of having children that suffer and die from these diseases.

Now for the two means of testing: closed testing (Dor Yeshorim) and open testing (like NYU or a number of other institutions).

Most people are aware of the history that led to the creation and perpetuation of Dor Yeshorim, so I won’t attempt to retell that here. Dor Yeshorim utilizes closed testing, which means that they collect 4-5 vials of blood from a young man or woman looking to date for marriage and perform a genetic characterization of their DNA.

The donor is assigned a serial number, which they must record for perpetuity (or at least until they get married) – and this is all they ever know. Dor Yeshorim does not assign a name to their file, nor do they ever release the results of their DNA characterization to anyone (potential shidduch and the actual person as well). You will never know what, if anything at all, you may have within your genes (see this article for why this has been seen as controversial). The stated reasoning behind this is to prevent any possible social stigmas (IE it’s “Bad For Shidduchim”), or personal neuroses stemming from the knowledge that you’re a carrier.

At some point in the dating process, the guy and girl exchange numbers, call up Dor Yeshorim, type in their numbers (both people have to do this, or Dor Yeshorim thinks someone is just being nosy – I made this mistake once early on, thinking that I would be trusted to tell the girl – they ended up calling the number she had registered with, which was her home number, and her mother answered the phone, unaware that she was dating!). They check their database and call back within the day (usually an hour or so later) to tell you to go ahead with the shidduch, which means there are no genetic incompatibilities, or that there is a problem. In that case, they tell you what it is since some potential conditions can, indeed, be worked with using modern medical technology such as In Vitro Fertilization (IVH) along with Pre-Implantation Diagnosis (PGD) – but at great financial cost and emotional turmoil (just ask any couple you know who is, rachmana latzlan, experiencing fertility issues).

Open testing, as done by NYU and a few other genetic testing organizations also requires obtaining several vials of blood, and similar tests are performed to characterize potential genes for potential genetic diseases. However, this method if often more comprehensive than Dor Yeshorim, which only checks for a select list (9 or 11 I think) of genetic, recessive (as opposed to dominant), fatal diseases. In a few weeks you receive a full print out of your results, telling you what you are a carrier for (if anything at all).

In the process of open testing, it is up to you to match notes with your shidduch to see if there are any incompatibilities. While some may be bothered by knowing what they have in their genes, it really isn’t a big deal at all, and literally has no affect on your life other than making sure that you don’t meet/date people with whom you would potentially have children affected by a fatal disease. A friend of mine asked Rav Tendler asked him what he should do in choosing Dor Yeshorim or NYU, and Rav Tendler replied, “Aren’t you a big boy now, can’t you handle knowing about your genes?”

Truthfully, the Dor Yeshorim system really is designed for communities that are not well-versed in secular knowledge (like sciences such as biology) and thus don’t understand that being a carrier isn’t a big deal. In very finicky shidduch systems, like in the more right-winged or Chassidic communities, where people do freak out over every little thing, this can be an issue that is troublesome for carriers. Whatever some more “modern” people might say about this, the fact is that incidences of Tay-Sachs have been virtually eliminated from these communities for a number of years now.

Dor Yeshorim has basically become a standard of sorts, since the vast majority of Orthodox girls get tested through them by their senior year of high school, or while in Israel. Thus, for guys who don’t get tested so early (which is seemingly stemming from a teshuva in Igros Moshe which recommended specific ages for young men and women to get tested – back in the day when open testing for Tay-Sachs was all that was available – listen to Rav Willig for more info). Thus is makes sense for a lot of people to do Dor Yeshorim just to be able to match up their status with girls they’re going out, since 99.9% of them (which is a guesstimation on my part) of the girls they are set up with have already done Dor Yeshorim.

However, Dor Yeshorim a policy that they will not test someone who has already had open testing, since they are philosophically opposed to the idea of open testing. Rav Willig has poskined that if one wishes to do both, he/she should do Dor Yeshorim first (thus preventing any genaivas da’as when they ask you to sign the form stating you’ve not been tested openly beforehand), and then do NYU afterward. That’s what I did – so I use Dor Yeshorim when I need to check my status with a girl I’ve been going out with but I also know exactly what my status is.

Rav Goldvicht recommends within the YU community that the guy and girl should check with Dor Yeshorim after the 4^th or 5^th date where the relationship seems to progressing towards more serious territory, but not so serious that breaking up, if need be, would be such a big deal. He says that in America it has become a big “thing” to compare Dor Yeshorim much later, as a precursor to engagement, which is generally a bad idea – what if you think you’ve found the love of your life and suddenly you are confronted with the reality that you may not be able to properly have children in the normal way?

Rav Willig strongly recommends that if this happens to people they should end the relationship, regardless of attachment. There are plenty of other people to get married to, why put yourself in a potentially tragic situation of G-d forbid losing children, never having natural conception, and going through the emotionally draining (and financially costly) process of IVF and PGD – or even living with playing “Russian roulette” and the possibility of terminating a pregnancy? The halachic difficulties, not to mention that the psychological traumas involved in these situations are not easily dealt with.

Genetic screening is not 100% accurate, but the vast majority of tests (for the most common and major genetic recessive diseases) have a predictive success rate of 95% or higher. While not perfect (since the labs are not going through your entire genome), it’s much better than flying blind. Major poskim across the hashkafic spectrum strongly advise, or require their constituents to take advantage of genetic testing (in whichever variety they recommend).

So if you have been tested, great! If you’ve only done Dor Yeshorim, perhaps consider getting tested through NYU as well (they have a number of opportunities to get open tested at no cost to you, and insurance usually covers all, if not most of the cost – and NYU will pick up the rest of the tab, if need be). EVERYONE should do open testing once they’ve gotten engaged (having previously found out their proper compatibility with Dor Yeshorim) – the reasoning being that if you and your wife know exactly what you carry (and at best you might not carry anything at all) you will have a heads up regarding your children. If you both find out you’re clean of such genetic mutations, then your kids will never have to worry about getting tested (Rav Willig and his wife did/do this – “do,” because every few years a new test for a different disorder is finally released for use by labs, so it’s worth it to expand your knowledge base).

This is the end of my very unprofessional run-down of genetic screening for marriage. PLEASE take time to listen to this lecture/shiur to get the full picture of the process from both the scientific and halachic perspectives.

Shidduchim Of The (Near) Future: Don't Wear Genes On A Date

Natan turned the corner and brought his car to a stop in front of Shayna’s house. He managed to park his vehicle just so, such that the passenger side door was positioned directly opposite the end of the walkway. He flipped down his visor-mirror, adjusted the knot of his necktie, and quickly checked to make sure his teeth were clear of debris, though he knew he had brushed them quite thoroughly before he left his apartment. This was his fifth date with Shayna, and they had decided together to drop the shadchan after their last outing. That meant things might be shifting into a more serious direction, the prospects of which were very exciting to Natan.

He got out of the driver’s seat as soon as he saw Shayna’s beautiful face appear in the small window next to the front door. He quickly scurried around the hood of his car and opened the door for her as she made her way down the cobblestone path toward him. Natan turned to Shayna and smile gallantly. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that she clutched a small set of papers in her right hand. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, he gently closed the door behind her, then scuttled around the backside of his car to join her inside.

Natan buckled his seatbelt as soon as he sat down, and was about to put the key into the ignition when he realized that Shayna hadn’t secured her own safety belt. She simply sat there, glancing over the series of papers she held in her lap with both hands.

“Is… is there something wrong?” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

“This isn’t going to work out,” Shayna’s tone was steady and firm. Natan was blown away.

“I don’t understand…” his mind grasped for words, but remained largely blank.

“I’m sorry,” her voice filled the awkward silence that stifled them both. After a moment, Natan found the ability to speak.

“Didn’t we just decide that we didn’t need a go-between anymore? Isn’t that usually an indicator that we’re thinking about the relationship in more of a long-term perspective?”

“Yeah, about that…” Shayna rifled through the papers again.

“What?” A slight tinge of frustration crept into his voice. Natan did not want to get angry. He knew that would undermine his attempt to defuse the developing situation.

“Well, the report finally came back, and it was largely negative,” she stated, matter-of-factly.

“Huh?” That did not make sense to Natan. “You waited until now to do research on me? Don’t we always do that kind of thing before anyone even agrees to go on a date in the first place?!”

“This,” she indicated the papers with a slight shake, “is not a background check.”

“Then, pray-tell, what is it?” He dismissively displayed his palm and waggled his fingers.

“A complete analysis of your genome,” Shayna replied.

“Is it now?” Natan thought this was beginning to get a little weird. “May I see that?”

“Sure!” Shayna’s response seemed a little too cheery. She handed him the papers.

Natan glanced over the documents. They consisted of a large series of numbers, a bunch of A’s, T’s, C’s and G’s, several graphs of various kinds (bar, pie chart, and line plots), with several sentences or passages highlighted and annotated throughout.

“I’m not quite sure what all this means… Biology wasn’t my best subject in high school,” his brow furrowed in strained concentration as he tried to make sense of all the symbols before him.

“Actually… this is far beyond anything you would have seen in high school, except for the concept of DNA, perhaps. It’s really simple, though,” Shayna chirped.

“Care to explain it to me?” Natan looked up and met Shayna’s gaze.

“Sure! No problem,” she quickly snatched the papers from him and turned them right-side up. She briefly rearranged the sheets, raised the back of her left hand to her lips and lightly cleared her throat.

“Basically, my father, who as you know is a molecular geneticist, utilized some hair and cell samples we collected from you-”

“You collected samples from me!?” Natan felt violated.

“How else were we going to run a full diagnostic prognostication and characterization of your genetic makeup?” Shayna crossed her arms. “My father needed some source of your DNA to perform the required analyses.”

“When did that happen!?” Natan was beginning to feel overwhelmed. “Did you stick me with a needle when I wasn’t looking and take blood or something?”

“No, no, no. That would be too obvious, not to mention an infringement of your personal wellbeing.”

“So how did you get my DNA, then?”

“First, we gathered some leftover cheek cells off the cup you drank from before I came downstairs for our first date. Then, I discreetly picked up a few loose hairs from your car on the ride home that night.” Shayna pushes a few loose locks of her dark blonde hair behind her ear. “After I turned the samples over to my father, he spent the last two weeks running tests in his lab at work...”

“Gosh.”

“…and the results just came back today. As it turns out, you and I would never really work out.” She pointed to a bar graph, “For example-”

“Wait-a-minute, we already did Dor Yeshorim and were given the go ahead! So what is all this?” Natan exclaimed, his patience wearing thin.

“It’s not that we aren’t genetically compatible per se, it’s just that you aren’t what I’m looking for in a lifelong marital partner.”

“How can you tell that from my genes? I thought we were getting along pretty well so far, and you must have liked my hashkafot and personality at least a little bit, right?” From Shayna’s uneasy facial contortion, it seemed to Natan that had he struck a nerve.

“Well…” She squirmed in her seat. “I do like you... But-”

“‘But’ what?” He inquired.

“I just don’t want to be a widow for 20 years,” she blurted out. “Among other things, that is.”

“What does that mean!? You know when I’m going to die?!”

“Not precisely. Dad calculated your genetically programmed lifespan, give or take three years. He compared those figures with my own, and it turns out you’re expected to live until around 75, while I’m going to make it until upwards of 90,” she frowned slightly. “I just want to make sure I have companionship in those last two decades, grandchildren and great-grandchildren can be a handful, you know.”

“This is ridiculous. What were the “other things” you mentioned?”

“To be honest, I’m not such a fan of your predominate gene for darker hair color. Everyone in my family has shades of blonde or light brown – including my older siblings’ kids – so I don’t really want to disturb that motif.”

“Seriously?!” Natan shouted. A realization hit him and he retorted defiantly, “Does this have anything to do with the fact that I have a Sephardic background? Are all these scientific shtuyot a covert means to disguise your high-and-mighty Ashkenazi racism against your fellow Jew?”

“Chas V’Shalom!” Shayna cried out and stared downward into her lap. Natan’s irritation lessened ever-so-slightly upon hearing her religious aphorism. She gradually lifted her head and looked him in the eye again. “However…”

“Oh, this should be good,” he rolled his eyes to accentuate his sarcasm.

“Well, due to the close-knit socio-cultural background of your particular Sephardic heritage, it seems that your extended family had a practice of intramarriage among first cousins.”

“And what’s wrong with that? True, that still happens every now and then, but it’s such a rare occurrence in my generation. There’s nothing wrong with that kind of marriage al pi halacha. Are you worried about some sort of social stigma? Do you think we’re a bunch of inbred rednecks or whatever?”

“Not at all!” She answered assuredly.

“Well, that’s a relief,” he sighed.

“On the other hand,” she began, but stopped herself to wait and see if Natan would react. He refrained from issuing another indignant outburst and gave her a “go-on” expression. “Because of your ancestral history of intra-family marriage, you inherited a familial genetic mutation for polydactylism.”

“Which is?”

“Being born with an extra finger or toe, sometimes on one hand or foot, occasionally both. It tends to run in families.”

Natan’s mind flashed back to memories of his Savta in Israel, and the little bumps on the other side of each pinky finger. His cousin had told him that Savta was born with six fingers both hands, but had them removed shortly thereafter, leaving the little protrusions as a physical reminder.

“In your case, the extra digits appear every third generation,” Shayna continued. “Which means that at least one of your kids will have superfluous fingers or toes. I just don’t want my children to have to go through that kind of thing. It would be very traumatizing, even if the additional fingers are amputated at a young age.”

“You know, this is really making me angry. I can’t believe that you are putting so much substance into these reports of yours!” Natan gripped the steering wheel, his muscles tense.

“That was the other major issue that showed up,” she flipped to another graph that had a lot of red color in it. “Your dispensation for having a short temper and your tendency to suffer from frequent bouts of anger,” Shayna pointed at the graph, indicating how much larger the red portion was than the other colors.

“Look, no one is perfect, and everyone gets angry now and then. Do you doubt my ability to learn mussar and improve my middot?”

“That’s the problem. Based on your genetics, I’m afraid that whenever you do get angry you’ll end up blaming your genome. Basically, you’ll excuse your bad behavior on a lack of free will, and I really won’t be able to say anything back in my defense.”

“Ok, that’s it!” Natan’s voice had risen in pitch and was almost trembling. “I can totally understand that you want to dump me, but I am really sick of hearing about how bad of a husband and human being I’m going to be in the future. I really don’t care what your precious data tells you, because I know I’m going to be a good husband and father!” He stopped his tirade, closed his eyes, and took in a few deep breaths. “Now, please,” his tone of voice was much calmer, “leave my car, and have a good night. I’ll stay here for a minute to make sure you get inside okay.”

“Alright,” she reached for the door handle. “At least we understand each other now,” Shayna offered a well-practiced smile. Natan gritted his teeth.

“Go on, get moving!”

“How rude!” Shayna replied, her hand pressed to her collarbone, fingers splayed to emphasize her offense. She hurriedly opened the door, slammed it hard behind her, and stormed up the walkway. Natan didn’t even bother checking Shayna out as she made her way back to her house, and instead stared at the lifeless speedometer.

“Just like my dating life,” he remarked, contemplating the unmoving indicator. He flinched slightly when he heard the front door slam shut. Natan started up the car and drove off.