Are Platonic Friends Possible?

Inspired by an interesting debate she witnessed, Tania over at Thinking Jew Girl asks readers if it is possible to have a close male-female relationship that has no potential for marriage, while both the guy and girl are actively dating other people.

I think the answer is no. That doesn't mean there aren't exceptions. But they are, in fact exceptions rather than the rule.

Case in point, "colloquiallyspeaking" replied that she had had such a guy friend who was beneficial in coaching her while she dated her husband, and now continues her friendship with him alongside her husband. While she concedes that adding physicality to the relationship can make things complicated, she adds that "a good emotional friendship is definitely possible and happens everywhere outside of the religious world."

I beg to differ, based on personal experience in secular academic institutions, as well as this completely objective and pseudo-scientific video that has been making the rounds on Youtube:

I think this video is very telling. As much women seemingly think platonic relationships with the opposite gender is possible, popular opinion from men seems to indicate the exact opposite.

From my own single experience from high school until marriage, I don't think I had female friends for whom I did not possess at least a small measure of attraction - even when the matter was openly discussed and the girl would adamantly say that she had no interest in anything other than a platonic relationship. I would certainly abide by her decision and keep things strictly platonic in terms of our interactions, but I couldn't deny that some residual feelings (or more) continued to dwell within me.

And that's the trap.

Can you honestly say that you could continue to be friends with a guy or girl, knowing they want no further development to that friendship, and successfully grapple with any ongoing feelings or spikes in attraction for him/her? That's very tough, to say the least.

I know I went through several cycles of waxing and waning of these troublesome feelings throughout my time in NCSY, while in Israel, and even at the start of my time at Yeshiva University. When I started dating, I was very aware of this distraction, and was reminded of this conflict by a married female friend (who was one of aforementioned single female friends) that I'd need to knock it off when it came to maintaining and cultivating female friendships while I was dating. And she was right. It made my life that much simpler, gave me greater focus, and allowed me to have success in my dating.

I'm reminded of an interesting observation that Rav Aharon Lichtenstein made during a Q & A session related to us by Rabbi Hayyim Angel. Someone asked Rav Lichtenstein if it was possible to have a platonic relationship, and Rav Lichtenstein, per his usual scholarly nature, went into a discourse explaining the true definition of a platonic friendship, which is actually between two men. I can't recall what Rabbi Angel said about Rav Lichtenstein's answer to the actual question, but I imagine he wasn't so encouraging.

Can anyone give an argument that demonstrates platonic male-female relationships are actually possible on a large scale instead of an exceptional minority?

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.

Made To Order

Rivky had a long, detailed list. However, her multi-page “manifesto” as her dating mentor jokingly called it, was nothing compared to the extensive set of possibilities displayed on the computer screen in front of her. She had always wanted her prince charming to be tall, dark, and handsome, but this newest “shadchan” wanted to know her preference for shade of hair and eye color, specific height (down to quarter-inch intervals), shoulder width, nose size, ear spread, even pitch of speaking voice. Rivky was happy to note the option for a splendid singing voice, which she eagerly checked off. Her circle of friends was always talking about hoping for husbands who would lead beautiful zemiros at their future Shabbos tables, and she agreed that she needed this as one of her must-have, top priorities.

There were simply so many particular details to browse through! Rivky wasn’t an indecisive person, but she had to admit she was a little overwhelmed with all the decisions she had to make on the seemingly endless range of specifics being presented to her. There was much to consider aside from physical attributes and looks. She could specify if she wanted a kollelnik or working boy, his level of learning proficiency, what sort of secular education background he possessed, personal attitudes, hashkafa, mood tendencies, food and music preferences, and even what style of shoe he liked to wear!

Rivky knew that she wanted a husband who was a learner and an earner, but not the type of guy who just learned daf yomi for 45 minutes a day after davening. He needed to be a real masmid with a good learning head on his shoulders who could give the daf yomi shiur because he already knew shas almost ba’al peh. Her future husband would also be adept at his career and able to properly support his growing family in a comfortable, but not too extravagant fashion. He had to be sensitive, loving, giving, and willing to do anything for her because she was going to be his queen, presiding over his household in grandeur. Rivky already imagined the meals she would cook, perhaps with some hired help, in her magnificently decorated and supplied kitchen, served in her luxurious grand dining room, with all their beautiful, well-behaved children arranged around their table.

Despite having her “work” cut out for her, Rivky remained undaunted in the task at hand. This was going to be it, her absolutely perfect shidduch! No more pointless outings to hotel lobbies and long, aimless walks in the park, or taking hours to make herself up to please an ungrateful, unkempt, ill-mannered brute date after date. By this time next year, she will have settled into blissful married life with the beloved soul mate she always dreamed of.

Out of the corner of her eye, Rivky noticed another figure across the office at another computer station who was deeply involved in the same procedure she was tackling. Totally engrossed in her decision making, Rivky paid the young man no mind as he intensely went about his own check list examination.

Benjy was having the time of his life. Going through all the options, leaving no stone unturned in fulfilling all of his desires for an ezer k’negdo was more fun than any date he’d ever been on. No more worrying about pressing shadchanim to find out what dress size the girl was, how much she weighed, how tall she was, getting a picture, or what her mother and grandmother looked like. He was thrilled to find out he could even decide exactly what look and body type his shidduch would be.

Benjy wanted someone smart, but not too smart, who would be a good housekeeper, and could cook a delicious meal any day of the week, especially on Shabbos. She needed to be outgoing, helpful, sweet, and supportive, not to mention downright gorgeous. He envisioned a wife he could show off walking down the street and would also produce cute kids for his parents to shep nachas, while still staying in great shape after each pregnancy.

Taking a break from his constant mouse-clicking, Benjy began to daydream. He’d never have to get all dressed up, making sure his clothing was freshly dry cleaned, shave regularly, or fake being all gentlemanly ever again. His wife would love everything about him, even the “manly” things that his previous dates had found undesirable or repulsive. She’d fulfill every one of his desires, and thank him every day for choosing her to be his wife as she served him a freshly prepared, steaming hot dinner upon his arrival home each evening.

His future life partner would never demand every moment of his time, and always let him watch the game as well as hang out with his buddies whenever he wanted. She’d never make him do stuff he didn’t enjoy, like go shopping, clean the bathroom, or mow the lawn. Benjy just knew that his wife would make sure the house was spick and span every day, keep the kids quiet and in-line, and pick up his socks whenever he left them lying on the floor wherever he felt like tossing them after a hard day at the office.

More than anything, Benjy looked forward to his wife’s ageless, smooth-skinned, well-toned, beautiful appearance that would always make his heart flutter, no matter how old she became.

Rivky and Benjy had independently read about Dr. Otto von Schnitzelpusskrankengescheitmeier’s shidduchim services in their local Jewish newspaper. It was hard to believe that “Dr. Otto” could really deliver on his promise to provide the absolute perfect shidduch after only nine months of intensive research and cultivation, but his customer references and rabbinical haskamos spoke for themselves. True, he cost a pretty penny, but when Rivky considered that people had already been practically auctioning off the best bochurim for decades, and Benjy made a rough computation of how much he’d already spent on years of dating, both thought this was an investment worth their money. Just thinking about a guarantee to the end of their dating woes made each of them beyond excited.

But, Dr. Otto was no typical shadchan. Some might hesitate to even call him a real matchmaker of any sort. Dr. Otto was, by formal training, a bio-engineer of the highest caliber with multiple doctorates from the most prestigious universities across the world. After several decades of failing to strike it big in the medical industry where government bans on human cloning had stymied his research, Dr. Otto sought to fulfill a different need for his genius intellect and prowess in genetic manipulation. After just a few short years of privately funded experimentation he had solicited from a few fabulously wealthy entrepreneurs with single, aging children, Dr. Otto perfected his art. For the right price, he could manufacture a picture-perfect spouse in his advanced laboratory, the only one of its kind in the entire world.

Collecting, modifying and combining the specified genes took several weeks, while gestation in his patented artificial womb lasted for a few months, with the remaining time utilized to accelerate the growth process to the predetermined age and flash educate the “work in progress” to the customer’s requested intelligence/career level. At the scheduled due date, which was always approximately nine months after an order was placed, the impeccably customized shidduch candidate was decanted, double-checked against the electronic profile order, suitably dressed, then presented to the customer.

On average, it only took about four to five dates with his creation for a marriage proposal to occur. A reputable 99.8% of the ensuing unions were harmonious and without fault, much to Dr. Otto’s delight. The remaining 0.2% that ended in divorce or separation were due to unforeseen imperfections in the product, which was promptly recalled, recycled for parts and replaced within the year. Dr. Otto was known for never leaving any customer unsatisfied. He couldn’t stand for allowing anything less than perfect to leave his laboratory.

Rivky finished her shidduch qualification survey, submitted her results and waved to the secretary as she left the office. Moments later, Benjy concluded re-checking the last item on the list, saved his answers, and grabbed his hat and jacket off the coat rack as he headed out the door.

Nine months flew by. Although Rivky sometimes felt the days crawl ever so slowly, the sheer agony of counting off weeks on the calendar was counterbalanced by the light at the end of the tunnel that she would finally have her perfect chosson.

She soon found herself sitting across from “Shlomo” in a darkened hotel lounge. As she absentmindedly stirred her diet Coke, her towering, built up excitement began to dissipate, like the ice that was melting in her glass.

“I like long walks in the park and the latest Jewish music hits. What about you?” The rakishly handsome made-to-order young man implored.

“Well, I actually like those things too.”

“Perfect!” Shlomo practically clapped his hands together with enthusiasm. “For our next date, we’ll go on a walk in Central Park, where I will regale you with my encyclopedic knowledge of the Talmud Bavli and Yerushalmi, followed by a trip to the local Judaica store to preview the latest CD releases.” He leaned forward and made an excited face “It’ll be a hoot!”

Rivky stopped herself before she began her next reply and began to consider just what was going on. After all that time spent checking off those little boxes on the computer screen, all the patient waiting, and after all that money… Rivky had to admit Shlomo was probably the biggest dud she’d ever gone out with. Something just wasn’t right about him, despite being absolutely perfect in every way that she had imagined. True, Shlomo was far better mannered, courteous, and certainly better looking than anyone Rivky had dated in the past, but she was beginning to think that he was nothing more than her list brought to life; a bunch of details given form in the flesh, but just as flat and uninteresting as the paper it was printed on.

As she sat there thinking, Shlomo adjusted his posture to be even more ramrod straight, held his hands clasped in his lap, and continued beaming the absolute goofiest grin in Rivky’s direction. Rivky half-smiled back unenthusiastically, which was her usual given sign for indicating that the date should be over, but Shlomo either didn’t notice, or had no clue what she was trying to communicate.

Nearby, Benjy was struggling with his own date as well.

“So, like, I looove cooking and cleaning. Nothing makes me happier than, like, making sure that my man is toootally comfy and taken care of.”

“That sounds great, Orli,” Benjy stifled a yawn with his hand. Leaning his head backward, Benjy finished the remainder of his drink in one gulp. He siged and roughly set the now-empty glass back on the wooden table with an overly audible clink.

“Oh, and I’ve gotta say that my favorite thing is ‘kicking it back’ with a cold beer and watching the game! Seeing those big, strong men smack into each other, throw the ball, hit a home run, then score a three pointer from downtown is just so interesting!” She flashed her blindingly white, perfectly straight teeth, which matched well with her flawlessly beautiful face.

“Uh… right,” he groaned. The idea of his wife throwing back a beer with the boys during the Jets game didn’t seem like so much fun to Benjy. He began to realize that he didn’t have much to say to “Orli.” She simply chirped back that she loved everything he did and would do anything he ever asked. Granted, she was smoking hot, but he felt like he was talking to a parakeet whenever they exchanged words. He never thought he’d ever choose personality over looks, but Orli’s gorgeous appearance hid a startlingly empty interior. To Benjy, it simply didn’t feel like he was talking to another person. He knew being married to the woman who fulfilled his entire list to the T was going to be great, but he at least wanted another human being to share a home with, not a zombified-robot-thing.

Shlomo was just not taking her hints seriously, and Rivky had no idea what to do. She had glanced at her watch several times, to which Shlomo asked if her watch was broken and offered to buy her a new one. She cleared her throat noisily and Shlomo produced lozenges from a coat pocket, suggesting she take one or two. She even tried her rudest tactic and began filing her nails right there at the table, very clearly ignoring anything further that Shlomo had to say. He definitely noticed she was distracted, but instead of realizing what she was conveying and ask if she wanted him to take her home, he began giving her tips for maintaining healthy cuticles.

Wishing she was somewhere else, someone nearby caught Rivky’s eye. It was that boy who was in Dr. Otto’s office with her nine months ago when she ordered Shlomo’s… creation. She guessed he was also on his first date with his own dream shidduch, and it even looked like it wasn’t quite working out for him, either. She had no clue who he was or what he was like, but their mutual interest in trying out Dr. Otto must have meant something.

Glancing past Orli, Benjy recognized the girl from that fateful day in Dr. Otto’s office. Surprisingly, she seemed to be staring intently in his direction, like she thought he was cute, or something. Meeting her gaze, he raised an eyebrow and stealthily inclined his head toward the exit, giving a subtle expression of invitation. In reply, she raised both eyebrows, smiled faintly, and carefully nodded twice.

“If you’ll please excuse me, I need to use the ladies’ room,” Rivky pushed her chair away from the table and started walking toward the door.

“But Rivky, the restroom is over there,” Shlomo said in his know-it-all voice, raising an arm to point the other way.

“I’m going out to have a smoke,” Benjy declared, abruptly standing up.

“I thought you said you never touched a cigarette?” Orli asked, quite puzzled.

“Yeah, well… um... See you later,” he casually announced over his shoulder, without looking back, while at the same time picking up the pace of his stride.

Benjy exited the lounge moments after Rivky, who was eagerly awaiting his arrival. She smiled up at him and he returned the first genuine grin he had displayed all night. Both released an exasperated sigh, happy to be away from their automaton-like dates.

“I’m Benjy,” he said after a moment of awkward silence.

“Rivky,” she offered, shyly looked down and softly kicked at the carpet. Benjy didn’t pick up the conversation, and after such a horrid night, Rivky was feeling kind of bold. “So, there’s a kosher Chinese restaurant a few blocks away…” She gestured to her right. “I happen to love Chinese food. It’s my absolute favorite…” She looked up and stared into his eyes. “Would you like to go out to dinner?”

“Actually, I hate Chinese food,” Benjy replied bluntly. “But there is a dairy Italian café two blocks over there,” he pointed in the opposite direction.

“I’m lactose-intolerant,” she admitted, somewhat embarrassed to confess such things to a total stranger. Rivky paused, taking a moment to think things over. After tonight’s disaster, she figured she may as well take a leap of faith. “But, I can probably order the fish or something.”

“Sounds good to me. Shall we?” He gestured with a wave, and they started walking down the sidewalk in unison.

Meanwhile, inside the hotel lounge…

“Hi! I’m Shlomo. How are you this fine evening?” Shlomo plunked himself down in Benjy’s empty seat.

“Baruch HaShem!” She squealed with glee. “My name is Orli.”

Minimizing Differences In Dating

A date once remarked to me that she felt a bit left out of the general shidduchim scene because she had gone to Touro, and thus had no real connection to get set up with YU guys. Her father attended YU a number of years ago, and she had an older sister who went to Stern, but neither could provide any real contacts to get her “in” the system of the YU dating world.

She mentioned that a bunch of her fellow Touro classmates felt similarly, and that it was a bit frustrating since they saw themselves as looking for guys more akin to those found at YU than at Touro/Landers. The Touro-branded gender-separated schools also lack the frequency of contact that YU and Stern have, so the opportunities for inter-campus dating didn’t really exist for her either.

Thinking back on my own dating experience, I realize that the majority of girls I’ve gone out with did, in fact, attend Stern. Those that didn’t (and there were a few) ended up as somewhat short-lived matches, lasting no longer than 2 dates. While those shidduchim were ended for various other reasons (by me or the girl, depending on the case), I wonder to what degree the difference in educational background played a part in the termination of the shidduch.

The saying goes that opposites attract. However, for most people, I don’t think this is true at all. People are most comfortable around others similar to themselves, and often develop relationships (friendship or otherwise) with different individuals based on a shared experience that then unifies them into a similar experiential subset – such as classmates or HASC/NCSY advisors.

I know from my own experience that I’ve had some difficulty becoming friends with guys who went to Gush. I don’t mean this as an insult in any way to their yeshiva or hashkafa, since I find many things to respect and admire in their approach, just as I do with most every halachically observant group out there. However, there has always been some undermining factor that created friction between me and the Gush alumni. With one particular friend, who I have known for a number of years, dating back to before either of us went to Israel (he went to Gush), I find almost impossible to have a normal, casual conversation with. I don’t think he’s an argumentative instigator of any sort, but we almost always end up verbally tussling over issues such as the existence of platonic relationships (which is another topic for another post and not up for discussion now). Despite all this, I still value him as a friend, and he often has very sharp, extremely intelligent things to say which I find very thought-provoking.

More recently though, I’ve begun to become friends with guys from Gush and other yeshivos as more primary friends than those from my own yeshiva, as has been the trend in the past. This development could be out of necessity from the fact that almost all the guys from my year in Israel at my yeshiva have graduated or gotten married and moved away. A more likely possibility, in my opinion, is that we have gone through the YU educational system and thus our cliquey behavior from post Shana Aleph/Bet has been broken down in favor of a more unified relationship stemming from our new identities as YU students. Sure, we still have strong loyalties toward our alma maters, but YU has become a new home of sorts, a new united yeshiva where we all have our unique niche among the overall Torah Umadda commonality that binds us together.

In the realm of dating, I tend to find that I very often have more in common with girls who go/went to Stern, since there is a very shared history between us, somewhat akin (though different in nuanced ways) to the idea in the previous paragraph. Even though we usually have never met before, we have a mutual educational history. Being able to engage in the ‘hock’ about goings on in the YU world is always a fun topic for the first date or two, and that basic connection is entirely lost when I’m going out with someone who has no connection to YU.

I have noticed a similar thing with regard to girls who went to Israel vs. those that did not (for whatever reason). I admittedly have gone out with very few girls who chose not to attend a seminary for the year, and it always feels like there is this huge chunk of connecting fabric that is utterly missing. We can’t trade stories about the craziness we experienced living in Israeli society or other adventures we took part in – all of which is usually perfect fodder for the first few dates when all you really do is play Jewish geography and compare/contrast the year(s) spent in Israel before college. The less than handful of times that I’ve been on dates with someone who went straight to Stern I end up feeling bad because I find myself going on and on about my Israel yeshiva days, and realize that I’m basically having a one-sided conversation because she can’t participate in a proper give-and-take in this area. Many girls are also a bit (or more than a bit) sensitive about this aspect of their educational record, and that can make things difficult as well.

Another similarly relevant point is the in/out-of-towner status. As an out-of-towner, I was initially encouraged by my rabbeim to only go out with girls that were also out-of-towners, simply because it meant we would have a common background that would potentially help produce mutually feelings about lifestyle and hashkafa. Being from out-of-town has a real profound influence on how a person views the world – I still can’t see myself ever living in New York on any permanent basis. I love YU, but I can’t stand New York. At first, I only went out with girls from hometowns similar to my own – which was probably more coincidence than absolute intention, since the candidates that married friends and their wives thought of always happened to be of that particular background.

Then, after a dry spell of not receiving any suggestions from my helpful and caring friends, I started using YU Connects and ended up dating several "local" girls. All were fairly unproductive, lasting no more than 3 dates (with refusals coming from both sides at different times). That doesn’t necessarily mean I’m entirely incompatible with in-towners, and in fact many probably wouldn’t mind living somewhere a little bit warmer and with a slower pace of life. So while I don’t outrightly turn down any girls from the Tri-State area anymore, I do make sure to inquire to see what their mindset is about at least the possibility of leaving somewhere very out-of-town. As a result, I’ve met some very great girls, and have also rejected profiles sent to me (via YU Connects) of people whose mantra is “New York or Israel.”

As an aside, take notice that New York is dead last in the CDC’s survey of the nation’s happiest states, while New Jersey is 47^th.

The last major point of comparison/contrast I find is the ba’al teshuva (BT) vs. frum from birth (FFB) interaction/disconnection. I will proudly admit I am a ba’al teshuva, dating back to my early high school days. I, along with my family, have gone through a lot of growth in the last decade since I’ve become religious. The experience of becoming frum can be very tumultuous, resulting in tense/argumentative relationships with parents and siblings, a ton of self-doubt about the entire process, and at worst can ostracize parents and their children. Thank G-d, the rougher times of conflicted interactions between my parents and I have long past and we are on extremely good terms wherein they recognize and appreciate the value of being religious (and have made great strides in that direction as well, to follow their children). If anything, our relationship is far stronger than it was before this religious journey began. But not every BT’s story is the same. Some never regain a positive relationship with their parents, and some maintain a very tentative “walking on pins and needles” connection to their mother and father (certainly a sad situation).

Oddly enough, I’ve only gone out with 2 ba’alei teshuva. One became frum along with her family at a very young age, so for all intents and purposes, she was no different from any FFB I’ve gone out with. The other had a situation similar to mine, but only her mother became more religious and not her father, so her parent-child relationship, though generally positive, is far from perfect in many ways (as are all of our parent-children relationships, though this adds an extra kink into the mix). Though we had similar basic stories in how we became frum (NCSY, rabbinic mentor, religious friends) our overall experiences, and the perspectives we developed were markedly different. That was the only “one-and-done” shidduch that was entirely mutual. She is a great person, and I very much admire her inner strength and tenacity for becoming religious in an admittedly difficult situation that I could really relate to, but we were on very different wavelengths.

I had thought that the mutual ba’al teshuva background would be a ripe source for finding connections between us. There are a great number of shared experiences that BT have had in their past which FFB’s will hopefully never encounter (this is also not up for discussion now, and could easily fill a post or two) which we draw strength from and have helped mold our often very unique perspectives on life and Judaism. I have always thought that the Gemara in Brachos (daf 34B) is an example of this principle. The Gemara there talks about the place where ba’alei teshuva stand in shomayim is a location that even tzadikim gemurim can never reach. Ba’alei teshuva who utilize their past, incorporating all the things they learned and were exposed to fashion a very distinctive pathway in Avodas HaShem. This includes the positive elements as well as beneficial points which can always be extracted from even the most negative situations.

So while BTs can have somewhat similar backgrounds (sometimes VERY similar) there can also be very disparate experiences that just don’t mesh. The conversation we had over the course of the entire date felt as though we were just talking past one another. We simply couldn’t properly grasp, or agree with the other’s views on lifestyle, interactions/relationships with gentiles, frumkite, and other things BTs struggle to define for themselves.

As ironic as it sounds, and especially because I certainly don’t have a right to be particular about the issue of dating fellow BTs, (since that is entirely hypocritical) I would honestly prefer someone with a FFB background. I love my parents and extended family to no end, and I don’t have any halachic issues with them anymore, but I like the idea of being part of another family that is far more grounded a knowledgeable about the finer details of halachic observance. Like I said, I can’t demand to only date girls with a FFB background, but this is something I think about a lot.

Lastly, there was an idea that I remember reading from Rav Aharon Feldman’s The River, The Kettle, and The Bird (which is FANTASTIC, by the way, and a must read for everyone engaged, married, or especially single – so you can work on the points of mussar he mentions NOW rather than waiting to improve yourself during marriage) or from my personal Rav (or it could be another source). In any case, the particular rabbinical figure said that whenever he meets with newly engaged couples for pre-marital counseling and guidance, he always has them sit down together in his office and starts off by relaying the same message. He turns to the guy and tells him “Your soon-to-be wife is a female,” then turns to the girl and says “Your soon-to-be husband is a male.” He does this to drive the point home that people often have unrealistic expectations about their spouse. Simply because this very special individual is someone you have committed to spending the rest of your life with, and hopefully your absolute best friend, doesn’t mean that he/she is also going to be the best equivalent of your male/female friends.

I recall hearing from another source that commented on the above mentioned catechism (“opposites attract”) that those who are looking for opposites have enough to deal with already since males and females are inherently different enough – why worry about other things like drastically different backgrounds, nationalities, family lifestyles, etc?

In any event, I know of at least one YU-Touro couple who are very happily married. My YU friend’s Touro-educated wife has acclimated quite well to the YU environment, and now she fits right in. I do think any specific differences of the sort I’ve written about in this post are by any means major red flags or deal breakers, but they are definitely something to consider.

Intelligence In A Shidduch Prospect

I know this issue has been discussed to death, and I would hate to be yet another blogger to plant a proverbial boot into the flank of an already abused, rotting equine carcass, but I think my perspective is a little different than most posts readers may have seen thus far. First, basically every blogger that has written about this subject has been female (that I have seen, and I could very easily be wrong, considering how many untold numbers of Jewish bloggers discussing shidduchim are out there). Second, my views on the subject of a date's intelligence are probably not typical at any rate, as are most things I think or write about. Therefore, I hope I can present a fairly unique perspective, rather than repeat points previously expressed, by people who, at any rate, probably write better than I do.

There are many things that people often prioritize when thinking about considering a potential marriage partner (see Bad for Shidduchim and A Mother in Israel). I emphatically agree with many commenters on both sites that list kindness as a top priority. I think that possessing a firm essence of kindness is especially significant since kindness is a very important "foundational trait" of sorts that many other positive attributes, such as being giving, expressing patience, and having the will to work out problems, can, and do stem from. I'll safely place kindness as the number one choice of what one should look for (both men and women).

But what about intelligence?

Everyone, to one degree or another, has some functional level of intelligence. However, is it wrong to desire a spouse (or in my case a wife) who enjoys actively participating in deeper discussions of Judaism-related topics (hashkafa, halacha, learning, etc) and/or secular matters (science, literature, etc)?

Just to clarify, even though I would personally very much like to have a wife who can hold her own in talking about some area of Judaic studies, I am not looking for a "chevrusa," as one of my rabbeim in Israel so eloquently put it. It is true that husband and wife often find some matter to study together, such as a beautiful example of a friend's parents who regularly studied the Chofetz Chaim's works on Lashon Hara together, even though the daily grind of kids running around the house can detract from such regular paired study. Even someone who has some level of exposure to Gemara study (whether minimal, or significant) doesn't worry me, but I don't anticipate spending the evenings of Shana Rishona immersed in a night-seder chevrusa in my apartment instead of in the beis medrish.

I am not frightened of the idea of even having a wife who could very well be smarter or more intelligent than I am (as in I would never be scared off like the guy from Bad for Shidduchim's story). If anything, I find a woman displaying higher levels of intelligence, or who is accomplished in her studies to be a potential source of inspiration. Rather than creating a childish competition of "who's smarter," I feel as though I would admire such a person. Instead of letting myself be complacent, and potentially backsliding over the course of my life (as in, if you don't use it, you DO lose it), I would do my very best to continue developing in Torah study and elsewhere. I also think I would shep nachas from a wife who could deliver interesting and engaging shiurim.

Upon bringing this idea up with my parents, Mom quickly replied that this shouldn't be a significant factor in evaluating a date. She basically said that the general craziness of married life and the particular unending job of raising children would preclude any possibility of ever having serious, intellectually stimulating conversation with my wife. While she would know far better than I about what it's like to deal with kids running around the house, I must respectfully disagree on her second point - I don't think one can make such a broad statement about looking for intelligence in a spouse.

Having seen examples of relatives and friends' parents who have started settling into their older years sprawled out on a couch, passively watching TV, is it wrong to want someone who would rather read a book? Reading and discussing books is a pastime long forgotten in many places in the world we live in today, and can provide very meaningful interaction and exchange of ideas. It may just be me, but I find the image of my wife and I sitting side by side reading together to be inherently more romantic than perched on a sofa, my arm around her shoulders, viewing the latest hit TV show or blockbuster movie.

I'm not trying to make an anti TV rant here. While there is indeed a glut of mind-wasting sludge out there (*cough* reality TV *cough*), there is programming worth watching as well (anyone seen episodes from the Discovery Channel's "Planet Earth" series? It's absolutely fascinating and features gorgeous footage of the incredible world we live in). My point is that preferring leisure activities/forms of entertainment that are intellectually stimulating should be a person's priority (which doesn't remove the license for a little fun on the more mindless side of things every now and then).

Intelligence is certainly attractive, and I think it is something that can make someone even more attractive than their physical features alone. Unlike what I presume most guys would choose - I would much rather have a wife who does not possess super modelesque looks and proportions (but whom I find physically attractive) and can give me a run for my money in the intellectual arena, than a woman who could easily be featured on the cover of a fashion magazine and not know who Shakespeare was.

I just feel as though there is a whole additional level of connection in the cerebral realm between husband and wife. Certainly, the physical attraction component must exist, as well as the emotional connection - the will to place the other person ahead of your own needs (IE kindness, giving, loving him/her more than yourself etc), and a level of spiritual compatibility (similar religious levels, values, hashkafic viewpoints). But the ability to engage in intellectual discourse - a sort of melding of minds - even if the particular educational perspectives are different (as they inherently will be, to some degree) seems like something worth desiring in a mate.

I agree that you can't presume your spouse will be able to fulfill every single intellectual need you have, that's what friends and rabbeim/teachers/chevrusas are for. I just don't believe that this is an area that is so easily compromised as say, an interest in a particular area of popular culture. I can live with the fact that my wife doesn't like _____ as much as I do (or at all, for that matter) - I can discuss it with my guy friends when I get the chance. But to entirely lack that deeper, brainier sort of relationship with the one woman who I'm going to share the rest of my life with, partner with to raise a family, and hopefully create a positive communal impact beyond the walls of our home, is a big issue in my mind.

Also, just to make something clear - I am not the most brilliant genius that has ever graced the YU campus (my GPA is NOT 4.0). I have plenty of friends who I will willingly recognize as making better grades and quite likely possess an IQ higher than mine. This post isn't about me being intellectually arrogant and putting down others who are not as smart as I might be. There are definitely guys and girls out there who could really care less how smart their husbands/wives are, as long as they are fun, easy to get along with, and will be a great person to help run a family. I certainly respect those who need that kind of spouse, and who they themselves are not the more intellectual type. As a commenter or two said in the above linked posts (check second paragraph), intelligence is a G-d given ability, so far be it from me to be a snob about a person's natural abilities, whatever level they are on. I merely feel that this is a level of connection that seems very essential to a successful, long-lasting relationship with my future wife. I could survive without this component, but I don't think I would be as fulfilled without it.

Maybe this is why I tend to think girls who wear glasses are more attractive than those who don't?