The Week in Romance

The first topic I must mention is that somehow, this singles columnist/blog proprietress missed the fact that last week was National Singles Week. How this escaped my attention is completely beyond me. I must have been in a Windy City. Or in La-La Land. Biopics are huge. With The Aviator (Howard Hughes) and Ray (Ray Charles) dominating much of the Oscar buzz last year, and with the imminent arrival of the already-critically-acclaimed Walk the Line, the upcoming biopic about Johnny Cash starring Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon, it wasn't surprising to me to read about the following deal:

JANE HAWKING's book about the turbulent years of her romance with astrophysics genius and A BRIEF HISTORY OF TIME author STEPHEN HAWKING is being turned into a movie. Bosses at Hollywood's Film And Music Entertainment Inc have acquired the film rights to MUSIC TO MOVE THE STARS and now hope the story will become an Oscar-worthy epic.

Moving on to the Grand Romantic Gestures Department, cosponsored by Bad Idea Jeans..."Lovelorn widower Hugh Ramage has taken out newspaper advertisements to try to find the mystery Welsh woman he fell for on holiday." After chatting with the woman, who he now describes as his "perfect match" for hours over the course of his vacation, poolside in Bulgaria, he made a tactical error: he didn't ask her name. All he has to go on is that she's from Wales. (Actually, that's more like "Bad Planning Jeans.") So, he's decided to "take out advertisements in a last-gasp bid to claim a holiday romance." The Scottish grandfather added, "We talked about our families, where we lived, what we did. I have never met anyone before that I can talk to so easily - it was if we had known each other for ever."

"I was going to ask her if she would like to keep in touch," he explained, "But for some reason, I lost my bottle." [I love that phrase.-EDK] Mr Ramage, of Belshill, Lanarkshire, said he would be happy to travel the 400 miles from his home to Wales to meet the woman of his dreams again.

He then added, "And I would walk 500 miles, and I would walk 500 more, just to be the one who walked a thousand miles to be there at your door." (The Proclaimers....look it up.)

But not all is bad for single women...Forbes reports that "Married women are more likely to report ongoing sexual difficulties than either single women or married men, according to an eye-opening new survey from Britain." Want all the details on how functional or dysfunctional you are? Check it out here...

Frustrated movie romance of the week: (Serenity spoiler here, so consider yourself warned)...Mal and Innara. Come on! She's a frickin' courtesan! Stop your shomer negiah smoldering at each other, get over yourselves and get yourselves a room already...that's all I'm saying. Want more Serenity spoilers? Try MyUrbanKvetch.

As for someone who (I hope) is one of your favorite singles columnists, she's had a good week. Her new column, Homing in on Change, is in this week's Jewish Week, and she's been profiled on Jmerica's YoYenta blog. And she's apparently begun referring to herself in the third-person.

Have a wonderful weekend, everyone.

In-Flight Romance, Please

Ahh, airplane travel. That oasis of pure serenity that comes with knowing that the inflight snack will be salty, the inflight movie will inevitably be Herbie: Fully Loaded, and that odds are good that you probably won't plummet 30,000 feet into someone's empty swimming pool. Flying solo often means sitting next to people we don't know, and, given our druthers (whatever druthers are), might never hope to meet. This last journey of mine, I was pretty lucky. Aside from my first seatmate, NY to Chicago, a man who laughed when another passenger hit me in the head with his bag and then promptly fell asleep, I shared space with good people: Chicago to LA was a lovely woman named Melissa, who was going to visit her sister, and LA to NY was a Duchovnian-looking teacher named Josh (shoutout to Josh, if you're reading) who was just returning to NY from a Buddhism conference in Tokyo. It's a good thing we were both willing to talk to each other; I even took some notes. In the good old days, when airplanes served actual meals, Jewlicious passengers could pick each other out by the kosher or vegetarian meals they ordered; if your seatmate asked "is there meat in that?" you'd fall in love instantly. But these days, things are more difficult... Enter AirTroductions. (Why they didn't call it "Love is in the Air" is beyond me. Dude, people so need to hire me for this stuff.) According to the Washington Post, "The recently launched site has described itself as "JDate meets the Mile-High Club," though participation presumably is not limited solely to those of the J-ish persuasion."

"Having taken over 500 flights in the past four years, I can count on one hand the number of times that I've been seated next to someone I actually wanted to talk to," site founder Peter Shankman said in a release. "Creating AirTroductions was a labor of love. Hopefully, people can match themselves up and sit next to someone they want to talk to! Imagine what kind of success can come from this, on a business, personal, and friendship level!" You buy your ticket as usual, then go to AirTroductions, log in and create a profile. You can post a photo, just like JDate, Match.com or any other computer dating service, then are encouraged to say what kind of person you would like to sit next to.

So, be honest, kids. And specificity is your friend. Don't just say single, or odds are you'll end up next to a ten-year-old kid or an octogenarian. And be careful with those long flights, or you could end up on an eleven-hour date with someone with no rescue calls from friends or escapes through bathroom windows. (Not that I've ever done either of those things.) But don't say I didn't warn you. (Cross-posted to My Urban Kvetch)

JDate's New Look

A friend tipped me off--JDate's changing, relaunching soon with a new interface and new features, including a magazine. You heard it here, folks... Check out their teaser...and pay attention to the spelling in Elena's profile. Believe me, it's a good ting they're being so up front about the fact that most of the profiles will have spelling errors in them... And does anyone think the music sounds a little bit, um, porny? (Not that I'd know what that sounds like...)

Guy Sues JDate for Inflicting "Serious Psychological Injury"

We've all been there, right? We chat with someone online, things seem to be going well, and then you get the email: "you've been rejected." Well, this guy's taking his JDate rejection and humiliation to court:

[Los Angeles Plaintiff Soheil] Davood claims the subscriber wanted to talk to him and even convinced him to call directly when he became tired and wanted to go to sleep. When the plaintiff called, he "received a taunting automated message telling him that he was rejected." Davood, who is seeking unspecified compensatory and punitive damages, claims the Web site is "defective" because it was poorly designed and monitored, which exposed him to "serious psychological injury." (NBC News)

Is a dating website "defective" if you don't find love? Would you ever sue an online dating service for damages? And if you did, what would you seek as compensation? So many questions in a litigious society in an internet age...

Tangled Web

It's like an episode of Friends. I know. They don't know I know. Or they wish I didn't. But I do. Still, no one says a thing. I've asked, and had my queries laughed at. But I'd have to be an idiot to not know. Of course it would be hard to learn, finally, after so much time and energy spent wondering and multiple denials, that such suspicions were more than just paranoia, but I always remember the old phrase: Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you. Not because they hate you. Because they love you, and they don't know how to tell you. They're afraid of how it might affect you, and they're right to be. But the truth is more important, because I've asked before, and they've lied. For my own good, they undoubtedly told themselves in justification, but still. There it is. The object that obstructs my moving forward. The roadkill that used to be my trusting heart. I understand why they're scared to say anything. There may be another angle, that they're scared to vocalize, to admit to themselves in a way that might make it real. So let's bring yet another elephant into the room and try to ignore that one, too. Of course, they don't have to tell me, because I already know. The facts already affect me, almost as much as the lies by omission. And in this state, still wounded, we're all trapped here together, without any chance for progress or hope of sutures. Still, with them knowing I know, it would be nice to finally know. You know?

Random Thought of the Day

Only this, and nothing more... When it comes to boys, the thin, pretty girls always win.

Every Number Is The Loneliest Number

Loneliness is a funny thing. Not in the "har-dee-har-har" type of way, obviously. But in a grander sense, loneliness is not defined by who you're with or who you're not with; it's an inner state that sometimes dwells dormant and other times explodes, or simmers, corroding from within, and sometimes even seems one of the more self-indulgent of emotional states. Who are we to feel lonely? We can seek out the company of others. We can momentarily drown out the refrains of "I'mlonelyI'mlonelyI'mlonely" with loud music or distracting movies or sorting socks in drawers or fiddling with digital photos and blog templates. You can feel lonely in a room full of people. You can feel lonely and alone inside your head. You can feel lonely in a point of view, or political opinion, or on the highways and freeways even as cars or thoughts speed by. You can feel lonely in the contemplation of a strong, or suffering, spiritual state. You can feel lonely in the excruciating moment you realize a hoped-for romance has turned platonic. You can feel lonely as you notice love or beauty in others and know that you have no part in it. You can feel lonely because you yourself are sad, or dissatisfied, or bored, or frustrated. You can feel lonely when you're the only one who understands the situation fully. You can feel lonely when you know friends are keeping things from you, even if their intentions are good. You can feel lonely at your own birthday party. You can feel lonely on a beach, or driving through a canyon, or watching a sunset. You can feel lonely knowing that there's a joke or reference you're not a part of; and even if you have it explained to you by insiders, you still don't find it funny, and knowing it doesn't make you one of them. It never will. And that's lonely.

Top Five: Worst Opening Words in Online Dating Profiles

I'm sure you're all very nice people, you who have used these opening lines. But maybe you're not aware that sometimes, we can only see the first five to eight words of your profile without clicking to expand it. So think about which words are the first ones we'll see. Because you never get a second chance to make a first impression: 1. I work hard and play...[hard] 2. Hi I'm [NAME ALREADY LISTED IN THE PROFILE] and I'm [AGE ALREADY LISTED IN THE PROFILE] 3. I don't know why I'm on JDate.../My friends are making me do this... 4. Give me a reason to quit JDate. 5. Hello ladies! I am looking for a woman... And yes, there are more. These are just the ones that are irking me at this particular second.

"We Were Married in a Past Life"

According to Reuters, there's this Manhattan doctor who pretended to be single in order to woo two women who he met online; furthermore, he told them that they had been married in their past lives and that in this life, they were bound to rectify the mistakes they had made while married in that past life. Still following? Good. Because here's the kicker, that guy who was married in his past life to these two women? Was also married in this life...

A Manhattan fertility specialist has been sued by two women who say he broke their hearts after meeting them through an online dating site on which he pretended to be single.

In their lawsuits the two women, Tiffany Wang and Jing Huang, accused Dr. Khaled Zeitoun, 46, of pretending to be single and using mind games to entice them into sexual relationships with tales of past lives.

According to court papers filed in Manhattan Supreme Court and made public this week, Zeitoun is married with three children. Wang said she met him in March 2001 through a Web site on which he said he was single and had never married.

"Zeitoun claimed he and Wang had been married to each other in previous lives," Wang's lawsuit said, adding that the doctor told her he had mistreated her in that life and "searched for her in this lifetime to correct his past mistakes."

Wang says that in May 2002, he asked her to marry him but only proposed "to see the look of joy on her face."

His marriage ended in 2004. And I bet he never saw it coming.

The Week in Dating

Time for another Carnivalesque post... I have to lead with my account of a singles event I went to two weeks ago. (Nepotism? Egomania? Sure. Isn't that why you come here?)

Last Thursday night, I went on a cruise along the Hudson River with about three hundred Jewish singles. I would have called it a Jews Booze Cruise, but it was a cash bar (the bastards). Here are some random thoughts I scribbled down at the night's end:

Trapped on a boat with Jewish singles and a cash bar may be worse than going down on the Titanic. Like the old joke, but with no end: iceberg, Goldberg, Rosenberg...what's the difference?

I would really like it if people stopped referring to Titanic and Gilligan's Island whenever the boat hit a choppy patch of Hudson. Why are there choppy patches on the Hudson, anyway? Is it high tide in the big city, or did Vinnie from Brooklyn just drop a coupla hundred bodies into the river?

I'm calling that guy over there Bruce Jenner. Why? Because he's wearing a shirt the color of a Wheaties box, and because when I make eye contact with him, he does the Cross-Boat-30-Yard Sprint in the opposite direction.

Plus, is improv comedy like dating? I think so:

To so many, comedy equals standup — a solo performer on a stage, asking an audience if they ever noticed how funny-sounding the word “kumquat” is. But improv is something else entirely — an unscripted, spontaneous creation of character, relationship, environment, conflict and resolution, conducted between two (or more) people. Kind of like dating.

(Read the rest of my latest Jewish Week column here.) P-Life contemplates getting back on the ole dating horse shortly after a breakup. Hilary at Superjux (or as I shall be calling her shortly, the Hotel Hilary) has some dating-related Thursday Things. Annabel Lee ponders a fortune of cookie origin and copes with an overly precocious niece. And because I'm off on an adventure, that's all's I got for ya right now. More to come next week... Be excellent to each other, okay, kids?

Today's Question of the Day

Over the last three weeks, three different guys (who I would have considered potentials) have told me that they've "given up on dating." Is that "guy code" for "I'm just not that into you"? Thoughts?

Office Romance Likely; Women Usually Lose

According to an Australian publication, "Research shows that about 70 per cent of workers have had an office fling at some stage, one-in-four with a colleague who was married or in a long-term relationship." Initially, I felt bad being in the 30 percent who has never had an office affair. Never mind that my first office was full of women in their 50s, my second was teeming with rabbinical students and the home office in my apartment is no way to meet anyone, let alone married men... But then I read the following:

But beware: if you are a woman involved with a married colleague, you will end up getting burnt. "It almost always ends in tears," said Geoff Carter, a senior lecturer in management at Griffith University, Brisbane, who conducted the research.

First of all, mildly interesting to me that they use the term "burnt" Down Under. (But you know me. I'm language-obsessed.) Secondly, why would I want to get involved in something that had been researched and proven to "almost always" end in tears? I mean, most relationships do to begin with, and certainly most of my recent choices have "inspired" tears before they've even started, so I like to think of that as cutting out the middleman. Pre-emptive crying, if you will.

FOE: Evan Marc Katz in Blogcritics, Sort Of...

So, I'm pretty new to this whole Blogcritics thing. They self-define as "a sinister cabal of superior bloggers on music, books, film, popular culture, politics and technology." (Could I even do sinister? Mebbe...) My friend Mark Treitel was profiled last week about his participation in Situation: Comedy, and this week, yet another FOE (Friend of Esther), Evan Marc Katz--or at least his book, I Can't Believe I'm Buying This Book--popped up on the site as well, in a column by Love Biatch in which she shares tips on dating. I can't quite figure out what EMK's presence in the article is, other than the appearance of his book cover, but publicity is publicity, so way to friggin' go, dude. And as for the sinister cabal? I've got to assume that cabal and kabbalah are from the same etymological origin, and since apparently, so are Esther and Madonna, I might just have to check it out.

Wise Up

It's hard to listen to. You don' tknow whether it's words or melody that affect you on this kind of basic molecular level. But whatever the cause, the resultant helplessness resonates in your ears as you hear the vocal desperation, and the lyrics afflict you like labor. It's hard to listen to. But sometimes, viscerally and inexplicably, it provides you with the blueprint for, or at least, nudges you toward, recovery. It's hard to listen to. And you can't explain it. But sometimes, it helps. "Wise Up" by Aimee Mann It's not what you thought When you first began it You got what you want Now you can hardly stand it though By now you know it's not Going to stop It's not going to stop It's not going to stop 'Til you wise up You're sure there's a cure And you have finally found it You think one drink will shrink you 'til you're underground and living down But it's not going to stop It's not going to stop It's not going to stop 'Til you wise up Prepare a list of what you need Before you sign away the deed 'Cause it's not going to stop It's not going to stop It's not going to stop 'Til you wise up No it's not going to stop 'Til you wise up Now it's not going to stop So just give up...

Orthodox Singles Scene on the Great Lawn

Sing it with me, kids: "Saturday (ba-doww), in the park, think it was the Fourth of July the Upper West Side..." That's it, no more JACK-FM for me. I've read this article three times now. I'm kind of surprised that the Times covered it, actually. The article doesn't tell you that much about the people at the north end of the Great Lawn (or as one of my friends called it, "shul"). Plus, each time I read it, for some reason, it makes me a little more nauseous. Maybe because the park scene is very 20s, and most of them are already bemoaning their fates as twentysomethings who are "still" alone and getting ready to greet spinsterhood. That's something a thirtysomething like me has precious little tolerance for. But I also remember what that scene is like--it seems like a good place to meet people, but it isn't. Instead, it's a good place to gaze at, judge, and not approach people. Unless you have friends in non-concentric circles which you can somehow manage to cross-pollinate, it's the same people, week after week, and more upsettingly, the same policy of non-engagement, which (logically) leads to no (or at least few) engagements. One friend of mine, in her mid-thirties, recently told me a story of having met someone in the Park one Shabbat afternoon. She and the potential suitor were talking and having a pretty good time, until he asked her age, and she told him. He immediately shut down: "you're probably going to want children soon, and I don't, so it was nice meeting you." All the previous moments meant nothing, it was a merciless "you're too old, game over." Nice, huh?

And this speaks to an essential truth about the scene. Tidbits of gossip often outnumber pick-up lines, in part because if flirting is what you desire, not even a modicum of privacy is to be had. And since religious laws prohibit writing on the Sabbath, it is also impossible to ask a potential date for her telephone number.

Great. Another excuse for men. These days, if you can't remember a seven digit phone number (and believe me, I don't give anyone a hard time for not being able to remember numbers), try an email address. Most people have cutesy handles (talmudboy613) or can be tracked down on the internet. If you are lucky enough to go to the Park or an event, or anywhere else, and meet someone moves you, be creative. Find a way. I don't care how you get there. Just get there.

This Just In: Men Afraid of Singles Events

These are the times that try single men's souls. Which is why, when it comes to singles events, most of them would rather just stay home. This results in a gross imbalance that most women have noticed; there are precious few men in attendance, and lots of women to compete over them. (Of course, the fact that most of the men in attendance probably will be too fearful to make an approach makes the women present feel even less attractive.) The Indianapolis Star reports that "intimidation," "fear of humiliation," and "fear of rejection" are some reasons that men give for not attending singles events. But the number one reason? "Um, I didn't know about it." That's right, good old "lack of information" was the number one reason. But further analysis of the results points to the fact that men aren't so much uninformed as they are insecure.

Joe tells us, "I don't fancy myself a good mixer, so the prospect of being someplace where I know nobody, and where the environment is conspicuous by its grand design for people to mingle, would scare the bejabbers out of me. I admit I have never attended one of these activities, so I speak with a profound sense of ignorance, based largely on nightmarish adolescent experiences attending dances and the like."

So he's basing his knowledge of singles events on his never having attended them, and drawing analogs to his experience as an adolescent. I do love his use of the word "bejabbers." That's adding some local flava, fa shizzle.

Bob explains, "Men do not generally like structured dating situations because they do not like the feeling of being trapped in a place where they have little or no control over their own situation."

Um, dude? Remember that SNL skit where the guy said "I always feel like I'm falling!" And the host of the talk show told him to "Look at yourself. Are you falling?" And sure enough, the guy understood that he wasn't falling. You're not trapped. And you have all the control! You say you'd be flattered if a woman were to show interest, but it is the experience of most online daters that you hate it when women approach you, and you humiliate us the way you're afraid you'll be humiliated. So be a little open-minded, and it'll probably open up your heart, too. Here are the other reasons:

• Lack of information (17 percent)
• Single parenting responsibilities (15 percent)
• Fear of rejection (12 percent)
• Fear of humiliation (9 percent)
• Work (8 percent)
• Shyness (6 percent)
• Lack of time (6 percent)
• Not wanting to get involved (3 percent)

I can't wait for the boys to weigh in on this one.

"Heart"y Honesty?

I was reading a JDate profile this morning (I know, kill me now), and the guy wrote: "The heart never lies." Is this true? And if the heart is always telling the truth, then how do we explain moments wherein we follow our hearts, to our own peril, and sometimes to our own ruin? Is the reason we call those moments "lapses in judgment" an attempt to shift blame from heart to head, thereby preserving the sanctity of reputation for said cardiac organ? Re-reading the above, I have to concede that it is entirely possible that I think about things too much.

Cry It Out: A Playlist to Mourn a Lost Romance

From love shattered to romantic hopes dissolved, we always seem to seek out the music. We know that there's a substantial chance that the lyrics or notes so assembled will cause more tears, or evoke sadness that we were repressing. Maybe that's why we go to the music, to help us feel or to help us get past the feeling, to reinforce our shapeless sadness and bind it to emotional reality. Sometimes, it's all about the music. And here's a playlist for crying your way through it. Long December (Counting Crows) Don't Give Up (Peter Gabriel/Kate Bush) Wonderful Tonight (Eric Clapton) Two Steps Behind (Def Leppard) In Your Eyes (Peter Gabriel) Imagine (John Lennon) Torn (Natalie Imbruglia) The First Cut is the Deepest (Sheryl Crow) Behind These Hazel Eyes (Kelly Clarkson) Romeo & Juliet (Indigo Girls) This Woman's Work (Kate Bush) You Will Be Loved (Maroon 5) There's a Fine, Fine Line (Avenue Q) I'll Miss You in a Heartbeat (Def Leppard) Wise Up (Aimee Mann)

"The Man Behind 'Behind Everyman'"

Reaching your 30s, you realize that you are professionally unsatisfied and have dated with no visible results. You write two novels and a memoir, collecting three rejections over four years. In a bookstore, looking for a “funny, quick read for the train,” you notice that such books are geared toward women. That same day, you begin writing to fill that perceived void in the market. Seven weeks and 45,000 words later, your novel is finished. Critics call the book — written in second person with an unnamed narrator — original and inventive. After your book sells, you meet your soul mate. While planning your wedding, you decide to move out to Los Angeles and try to sell the book as a screenplay. In the process, you become not only an established writer but a singles success story. This is the story of composer-turned-novelist and bachelor-turned-newlywed David Israel, author of “Behind Everyman,” “a novel for guys and the women who rescue them” that critics called “high-concept lad lit debut afloat with wry humor, earnest romance and endearingly dopey self-doubt.”

For more of the article, my column in this week's Jewish Week, click here. And madd props to Hilary for introducing me to the book (and the author) to begin with.

Redating, Reusing, Recycling

Ever date someone, know they weren't for you, but thought they were too good to throw away? Did you ever fix them up with a friend, or integrate them into a group of friends, hoping that they'd mingle and mate with one of your nearest and dearest? If you have, JDaters Anonymous wants you to answer these questions for a future article: 1) Who was the person and how did you meet (blind date, online, at a party, through friends)? 2) How many times did you go out with that person before deciding he or she was not for you? 3) Was there mutuality on the lack of romantic chemistry? 4) Did you have someone specific in mind for that person, or did you just think, "anyone but me"? 5) How did you successfully transition from "date" to "friend"? 6) Have you ever "recycled" a former date more than once? Is that date resentful or appreciative? 7) Have any of your instances of recycling resulted in committed relationships? Your reflections on "recycling" welcome, either in the comments section or via email. Feel free to forward to friends for their feedback... Thanks!

Please, Tell Me...

Not that I'm not sympathetic to the plight of the single gal. Clearly I am. But, gentle reader, could you please tell me what the point of this article is? My summary: She's single. She's looking. She's frustrated by online dating. She's still hopeful and still waiting. I hope this story's on tape somewhere, because no one would ever believe it... [Yes, indeed, that's sarcasm.]

Refraction

It's hard to come back from it, the edge of whatever your hope once was, to overcome the impetus that made you lose your footing and dangle from precipices to begin with. Harder still because you put yourself there, in some misguided, self-affirmative step toward individuation. Grimacing through the pain of it all, your mantra: all for the best, all for the best. Words ring empty--if at all--when vocalized, but still, must be repeated for continuity's sake, must be repeated ad infinitum, must be repeated until you start to believe it. You stay active in body and mind, so the totality of you will persevere, past bumps in the road and rough patches and stormy seas and a thousand other cliches. Slowly, you claw your way back, because you want to or because you have to. You seek redefinition of what you'd perceived, and recontextualize yourself within the new construct. Although you've swept them up before, shards of shattered hopes remain, insidious, piercing your bare feet just when you thought you'd found them all. But you're tough. Callused, in protection from renegade vestiges of something you thought was possible. In daily life, you cultivate steeliness, deny your warmth and flexibility. You're still you, craving the clamor of contact, the intensity of perceived or actual intimacy. But it's safer here. There's no room for interpretation in metals and no heartbreak in stone. It's only temporary. You know it is. As if there were an expiration date on sadness. You feel it in the air like pollen, an irritant that heralds the spring thaw. You rotate, earthlike, on your axis, yet not feeling like the world does or should revolve around you. But the motion is constant, and constitutes progress. There are others now, refracting prismatically, sometimes dazzlingly shiny. Shielding your eyes, you wonder if you'll ever see inside, and if the interior is as opulent as the exterior seems. But at least it's something new to look at.

The Week in Dating

What week in dating? I know it's only Monday. But start the week with last Monday if it makes more sense to you. If you've been thinking about calling E-Cyrano to help you with your profile, now's the time to help yourself and me at the same time. First, go here and decide which package is for you. Then, on the “buy” page, you’ll see that they've added an option to “How did you hear about E-Cyrano”, that says “E-Cyrano consultant”. If you do that, the page will refresh and you can type in my first name ("ESTHER"), so I can get “credit” for the referral and the client will be assigned to me. (Tell your friends! Thank you!) First, we'll visit with the regular gals and see what they're up to: Hilary had the blahs before the weekend, but her mood was much improved after a well-deserved few days away. Annabel Lee is up to date #3 with an E who (just to clarify) is not me and whose manners are devolving more and more with every date (unfortunately). That guy who usurped my initial better step up, or I am reporting him to the Committee on "E" Abuse. And Ari strikes again, by giving us just enough to keep us curious, but it seems fairly clear that she both kissed a new boy and saw a celebrity. I think if those things both happened to me on the same night, I'd probably die of shock right there. I haven't linked to the Smitten in a while, because she's become a Bridezilla. Just kidding. She just wants it the way she wants it. But since she met her fiance via the wonderful world of blogging, I thought she was worth including as a role model. Plus, chiquita (and her man, the chico) totally rocked Weight Watchers into oblivion. (If only that kind of success were contagious...) Barefoot Jewess, whose blog I don't visit nearly often enough, muses as to "how Jewish" she needs a life-partner to be. Here's a new blog, found via Superjux, wherein the author reflects on all of her first dates. Even for first dates, my blog on the same topic would be extremely short, and not very interesting. Just like most of my first dates. Over at Jewlicious, Laya posted about JQS Corp, which runs JMatch and is trying to give JDate a run for their money. They have a really cool blog, which features content from Jewlicious (including some posts by yours truly), and now have regular text-based instant chat as well as voice and video chat. Since we're plugging sites here, some of you internet-inclined Jewish daters may also wish to try the free-to-register JSoul, which is run by a friend of mine. Feel free to write them or me with your feedback... And of course, in case you haven't been paying attention (please present palms, as I smack them with a ruler), Dr. Janice relaunched her site. Check her out, sign up for her newsletter etc. After all, as she stated in an earlier comment, she's "here to help!" Have you ever wondered why people can be such jerks when it comes to dating, finally, we have the answer: it's all our celebrities fault. According to this article, our celebrities are pretty poor role models when it comes to relationships. I mean, how often has it happened to us that our boyfriends leave us for Angelina Jolie? And what's their excuse? "Brad Pitt did it..." In the world of this article, Sienna Miller=all that is good and Hillary Clinton and Victoria Beckham=women who accept their husbands' philanderings without standing up for themselves. Well, an interesting theory. You know what else is interesting? The concept of an Israeli version of the Bachelor, but starring an American guy from NYC. Esther at Jewlicious (I always enjoy her writing) shares her impressions of yet another Israeli reality show she'll never get to see, this one starring a guy who looks not entirely unlike David Boreanaz, which is never a bad thing (and shout-out to Jason for that call). And in a note only slightly related to dating, my friend Mark is one of the writers featured in Situation: Comedy, the new Project-Greenlight-style reality series on Bravo where the end product is a sitcom. (How's that related to dating? Last year, Mark, a friend of mine from camp who's been living in LA, married Mindy, another friend of mine who was living in New York. They didn't meet through me, but they could have, which proves a) that long-distance relationships can work if the people want them to, and b) that if everyone hangs out with me enough, you'll probably all end up married.) Watch the show (Tuesdays at 8, I believe), go to his site, leave him messages of support, link to him from your blogs, and tell him Esther sent you... That's all for now. Date well and wisely, and feel free to share the best and the worst with me. Like Dr. Janice, I'm here to help!

Dr. Janice's Site Relaunched

Friend of JDA Dr. Janice has relaunched her site. Now the celebrated Love Coach has a shiny new site, and a URL that's super-easy to remember: doctorlovecoach.com. Go visit her, sign up for her newsletter and register so you can participate in discussions on the message boards. You just might learn something! And do tell her that Esther, Queen of JDaters Anonymous, and She Who Kvetches Urbanely As Well As Jewliciously, sent you...

More Adventures in Billboard Dating...

He's 31 and still single? Whatever shall we do? We must rescue him from this horrible fate of loneliness...let's get ourselves a billboard! Stat! And we'll fill it with clever verbiage!

"I'm Lance, Let's go out!" reads the billboard on an interstate near Lindon, about 40 miles south of Salt Lake City.

Given, it's in Utah, so maybe NYC's big advertising firms are too busy to provide this guy with slogans, but still...

...So why the concern over Archibald's marital status? As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, whose members typically marry in their early 20s, the 31-year-Archibald is approaching the male-equivalent of an "old maid."

There's a male equivalent of an old maid? I love it. Finally, some equity. But how does Archie feel about the attention? Is he excited by his friends' efforts? Mortified by the publicity? Or completely and utterly the Mormon equivalent of pareve on the matter?

"I'm not overly concerned about (marriage). I'm pretty happy right now," Archibald said. "I'd like to get married, but it's not a concern."

He seems pretty "laid-back and easy-going." I bet he also likes to work hard and play hard. Maybe he should try JDate? Nah, he's "not overly concerned." In the big city, we like to call that "not overly interested in commitment." Not that there's anything wrong with that. I'm just sayin', like the old adage goes, if'n you're not looking to meet someone, don't put up a billboard.

Plea for Help: Liver Transplant Needed

This is not a joke. This is not a hoax. This is a real person, a 31-year-old woman from Long Island, who is engaged to be married in October, and who led a 345-city tour to raise awareness of the importance of blood donation, whose liver suddenly failed this week, and who needs a complete liver transplant (Type A or O) to survive. There are very few of us who might be able to help in finding a liver. But if you know someone who can help, contact liverforalife@yahoo.com or go to http://helpshari.typepad.com. Link to the blog, send emails to your friends, send notes of support to her friends and family (via the blog)--do whatever you can. And if nothing else, pray.

"My Big Fake Jewish Wedding"

Weddings are supposed to be about joy and harmony, but the reality is, uniting two families is a complex negotiation, a diplomatic and tenuous situation, and rife with the opportunity for drama, comedy, and if you’re lucky, a good spot at the smorgasbord. For instance, take Leah Lowenstein’s wedding to Sam Levine. Leah’s a nice Bais Yaakov girl from a religious family; Sam’s in a rock band. Sam’s mother, Dr. Roz, has a popular radio advice show, but she has an awful relationship with Sam’s father, Morty. Dr. Roz has hired her “hippie rabbi,” Conrad Singer, to perform the wedding, unbeknownst to the Lowensteins, who have employed Rabbi Perl, a more traditionally Orthodox rabbi. The dysfunction flows like Baron Herzog into the glass of hyperactive, almost too-happy bridesmaid, Gitti Sara, who’s so desperate to get married that she solicits dates from the guests. Most of them just ignore the histrionics, turning their attentions to the kosher Moroccan-style buffet. Maybe you need a Jewish wedding refresher course. Or you’re sick of attending weddings. Or you’re considering a career as an Owen Wilson/Vince Vaughn-style wedding crasher. “A Match Made in Manhattan” is a chance to attend nuptials where no one cares how you behave — as long as you participate in the simcha, and play Jewish geography until you find someone you know. (Like I did.)

For more of this week's column, "My Big Fake Jewish Wedding," click here.

Putting the "Desperate" Back in "Desperately Seeking..."

[Originally posted at Jewlicious] Who doesn't love Jewish singles events? (I know, stretching the sarcasm until it transforms into a rhetorical question.) The Transom (which is apparently a section of the NY Observer) went to a Jewish singles night at the Upper West Side's Makor (Steinhardt Center of the 92nd Street Y). They interviewed Dave/Steve/Mike/Mark Jacob Manczyk (the names will change from event to event, but believe me, the issues remain the same), who spent the evening apparently either joking/flirting with the reporter or stumbling over his own words. (As you can see, sometimes it's hard to tell which...) Here's Manczyk on matchmaking:

“It’s an act of desperation, it’s unnatural. I wouldn’t want to tell my kids I met their mom through a matchmaker.” But the single-meet up scene hasn’t done the trick either, right? “Maybe it’s me, maybe I’m the one with the problem, the relationship issue. Maybe I’m the fool.” He looked up, eyes bright. “How old are you? Could you take off your glasses?” Michelle Lee, a 33-year old lawyer, is a JDate member and regular single event attendee. How has the matchmaking been going, the Transom asks. “I’m still single,” she sang. And the JDate, the singles events? “I’m still single,” she repeated.

She sang? I've attended many an event, and have never "sung" anything resembling "I'm single"--there's a karaoke event that might have seen a rendition of "I'm Too Sexy," but even that cannot be corroborated. I guess she's the one who puts the "sing" back in single.

The man she’s with, Dave Sanders, 39, is an engineer from Queens. He answers for what she’s looking for in a man. “You know, someone blond, blue eyes, likes to ski and travel,” he said. The Transom cringed as he described himself, but Ms. Lee giggled.

I'm still kind of cringing. But look, she found it entertaining enough that they're talking of margaritas for next week. So good luck to these crazy kids. Here's hoping they make it through and never have to attend any other Jewish singles events ever, me'az v'ad olam...IYH soon too by you, amen selah. Jewish Singles Events: Putting the "Desperate" Back in "Desperately Seeking..." Since Before the Common Era...

For Everyone Who Describes Themselves as "Ripped"

This just in... Adonises and Adonisettes of the world, be sure to warm up, stretching all of the major muscle groups, jog over to the computer that's mounted over your treadmill, set the incline at 8.5 and the speed at 15 mph, and log on Fitness Singles, the site for people as obsessed with fitness as you are. That's right, now you can find someone who is as in love with his or her own body as you are with yours! Finally, the person to whom you can say, "honey, do these washboard abs make me look fat?" Follow online dating registration with a rigorous circuit training workout, ending in three reps of 8-Minute Abs, and followed by a cool-down.

Singles Columnist to Hire Husband

Hey, you thought that was about me, didn't you? Well, I never. Literally. I would never seek to "hire" a husband, because I can't afford a good one, and what's the point in engaging the services of a sub-par husband? I mean, really... Palm Beach (Florida) singles columnist Angela Manfredi (who's apparently looking for her own Man Freddy, or Mikey, or Davey, or whoever) has given up on looking for love and decided to take on some help of the husband variety: someone who can take out the trash, fix things around the house, presumably open jars...you know, husband things. And she's chronicling the journey for her column in the Palm Beach Post. The term of engagement for such an indispensable "husband"? Two weeks. Payment? "To be discussed privately, but not less than $1000." (See more details and legal stuff at the "apply" section of her site.) In her own words:

Help Wanted: Unique position available for success-minded single man to help never-wed singles columnist experience the practical side of marriage for two weeks over the summer.

Responsibilities include: Rescuing me from the perils of intrusive dinner party conversation, car concerns, household handiwork and hurricane preparations. Applicants should be proficient at displaying enthusiasm and rapt attention while listening to a vivid, detailed account of my entire day.

The ideal candidate: He possesses the ability to express (in a gentle, flattering, non-verbal way) that the outfit I'm eyeing is better suited for one of Lil' Kim's back-up dancers.

What's in it for him? For better or worse, until the end of our employment contract do us part, you could consider this espousal exercise groom-ing for the real thing, a refresher course, or just a great summer job opportunity!

Angela's never been married and claims "22 years" in the dating trenches. And yet she looks like a daytime TV talk show host. Maybe she's living in the wrong city? I dunno. Anyone who wants to try on husband shoes for a few weeks? And any suggestions for stunts I should pitch to the Jewish Week for my column?

JDate's Literal Poster Girl

The glamorous showbiz lifestyle has finally got its dirty mitts on the previously innocent Annabel Lee, luring her with corporate promises of beauty, billboard prominence and tank tops. Back in June (the post is from my birthday, which I attribute to that day's intrinsic glamour and luck), the divine Miss L received an email from evil corporate bastion of internet dating JDate that her picture had caught their collective eye. They extended seductive promises:

you'll not only enjoy a fun day with fellow JDate Members and the chance to be featured in our campaigns, but you'll also receive a $200 cash bonus and digital copies of your best looking headshots. You'll have great photos for your profile and to send to family and friends! Unfortunately, we cannot provide compensation for travel arrangements or other expenses, but in addition to offering you this exciting opportunity, we'll treat you to a delicious breakfast and lunch, and of course, some glamorous socializing.

Turns out, they had her at hello. Our girl enlisted for her day of "glamourous socializing" with other unsuspecting, L.A.-area JDaters who had also been caught in their taloned claws, much like King Kong did Fay Wray/Jessica Lange/Naomi Watts. You can read about her day here.

Saying "I Love You"--Hah, Hah...

There's nothing like that moment when you and your sweetie say "I love you" for the first time. (Or so I've heard.) It can be nerve-wracking, emotional, and...funny? Renatt Brodsky, a freelance writer, is working on an upcoming Glamour story about women aged 20-35 who have comical stories about saying "I love you" for the first time. And she's asked JDaters Anonymous for our help:

We need the women to still be with the guys and have happy endings. The women can be telling about their own "I love you" misfires, or about that of the guy they are currently with. Like women who said I love you during a loud moment in a concert or movie or fireworks show then had to scream it to him, only for the noise to stop and everyone to turn around, or a guy who called his girlfriend and blurted out I love you as soon as she answered, but it ended up being the wrong number. Here's an example of one that works: "I had been dating my now-husband for a few months when I decided to tell him how I felt about him. The only problem? I was half-asleep at the time. So I roused myself semi-awake, rolled over, and said: 'I love you... Milk.' His name is Mike." - Nina Johnson, 30, Rio Rancho, New Mexico

Personally, I think that story would be funnier if his name was Milk, and she accidentally called him "Mike." If you or any female you know has a funny story to share with Glamour please email Renatt the following information by Tuesday, 10 a.m.:

1. first and last name 2. age 3. city, state 4. email and number 5. Your comical story in two paragraphs- When did you say I love you, and Why did it end up being so hysterical?

And remember to tell her you're a reader of JDaters Anonymous...

And if you meet any nice Jewish guys named "Milk," please send them my way; I'd be happy to date them just for the comedy value.

Has a Movie Inspired You To Change Your Life?

If you're from somewhere other than NJ or NY, Glamour Magazine wants to know, has a movie inspired you to change your life? Writer Renatt Brodsky's looking for a few good movie-related epiphanies:

For an upcoming Glamour story, I'm looking for women ages 20-40 (who are not from NEW JERSEY or NEW YORK), who have have had a life-epiphany based on seeing a movie. In a nutshell, I want to know how seeing a particular movie inspired you to alter your life. We already have a few options for career-changing movies. We are now looking for movie epiphanies related to * love * family relationships * something personal (ex/ weight/health; drinking; self-confidence; etc.) If this sounds like you or a woman you know please have her email me the following by tomorrow, Thursday, 7/7 by 3:30 p.m.: 1. first and last name 2. age 3. city, state 4. email and number 5. Your story- What movie inspired you to alter your life? How so?

Personally, it was Pretty Woman that inspired me to move to NYC (because LA was too far and too hot) and try my hand (and my everything else) at prostitution, but I'm from NY, so Renatt doesn't want my story. If you contact her, tell her Esther sent you!

This Week's Clips

I've been published a few times this week, on everything from my nephew to vacation, with a smattering of Jewtopia thrown in for good measure. Read, enjoy, and comment away!

The Boy Who Changed Everything

From the second I laid eyes on him, that phrase about having known and loved him before I met him suddenly made perfect sense. He’s a relative heavyweight; but I’m still way taller. He’s a new player on the stage of my life, but fits perfectly into the family I’ve always known. We’ve all literally and figuratively embraced him, even though all he does is look around at this new, exciting world, demand sustenance, and poop on us.

For more of this week's First Person Singular column, click here.

Sole Searching

Even after many of us have graduated from an academic calendar, we think of July and August as the time to escape: to leave the countless papers on our desks for innumerable, sprawling seaside sands. It is a time of sun-filled getaways, SPF 45, and bathing suit anxiety. We look forward to letting our hair down and taking our clothes off, to whatever extent we wish. We court relaxation like a soulmate, and hedonism as if it's our last night of freedom...

...Would we be able to free our City selves from the code of acceptable behavior as mandated by our tight-knit, seemingly omniscient Jewish community, and embrace the possibility of relative debauchery? It wasn't like Turks and Caicos was Vegas; there was no advertised assurance that what happened here would stay here. What if we "went wild"? Would the video proof of our adventures end up on the Internet? At shul board meetings? Would reputations be damaged? Jobs lost? And would any of us care?

The above is excerpted from "Vacation: A Spiritual Retrospective" (my "Sole Searching" spirituality column at GenerationJ.com). To read the column in its entirety, click here.

Jewtopia's becoming a book...

“Jewtopia’s” co-creators Bryan Fogel and Sam Wolfson, who also co-star in the play, were just finishing up the script for “Jewtopia: The Movie,” when a book agent saw their show and made them an offer they couldn’t refuse. “We weren’t even thinking about it,” said Wolfson. But the agent was persistent. “He hounded us … ‘I can get you a deal,’ he said. He got every publisher out and started a bidding war; it was supposed to be a small kitschy paperback, but it got so much heat that it’s going to be a hardcover [WarnerBooks won the bidding war, and the book is slated for September 2006 release].”

“Jewtopia: The Book,” Wolfson explains, will include “silly stuff from the play, but in more detail; like Jon Stewart’s ‘America: The Book,’ with graphs, charts etc., but for Jews.”

For more, see this Jewish Week article by a fairly prolific writer. Of course, most of you have already read about the book deal here. And still others of you will remember this column. No, Sam and Bryan are not paying me to promote them. (But maybe they should...)

Your scrolling bonus: three stories I posted to Jewlicious and one from My Urban Kvetch...

This Space for Rent: A woman rents out her forehead to be tattooed with the name of an online casino

Man Rents Billboard to Find a Wife: This post at My Urban Kvetch has started some interesting discussion on whether renting a billboard is or isn't an effective way to find a spouse. Come on over and participate in the conversation...

Hummus is Potentially Trayf: An argument over whether tehina used in making hummus is kosher if ground by a non-Jew.

Could Lead to Dancing: The Wednesday night Israeli dancing scene at the 92nd Street Y. (Postscript to this: a friend of mine went and said the scene was pathetic, so it's possible much of this article was spin.)

That's the egomaniacal Week in Me.

More undoubtedly to come...for which I apologize in advance.

Jewish Bloggers in the World Jewish Digest

Ever wonder how blogging changed my life? Wonder no more.

Want to hear the founders of Jewlicious and other popular Jewish blogs talk about their reasons for blogging, rendered sensitively and beautifully by Chayyei Sarah? Sate your hunger for blogformation.

Click on, my blogbrothers and blogsisters.

On Kissing and Not Kissing and Other Stuff

I've got readers who kiss and readers who don't. Whatever the reasons, religious or lack of opportunity or desire. But when Miss Fish writes about kissing, you just want to go out and do it. (Or maybe that's just me. In any case, it probably has nothing to do with the little imp-girl she met while she was out the other night.) On the flip side, there's P-Life, going all passionate in his head. Turns out he met a girl who's also passionate in her head. And they're being all expressive and stuff: Today we did a meditation exercise and it turned out that – when I was supposed to see my soul on its own light I couldn’t at all – your soul was so attached to mine that I couldn’t see my soul on her own. Saw us together as one. Sounds scary to verbalize it... And in a completely different vein, Anna Broadway, "enjoying" (or at least answering) lots of reader letters after her appearance in the Rolling Stone article about the new virginity movement, gets down and chaste (and as always intellectual) about being Queen of the Castle and why other should be Master of their Own Domains. (And I don't mean domain names. Those can be purchased from GoDaddy.) And a roundup wouldn't be a roundup without visits to H, who's over at Slay Your Demons taking on weak online dating profiles; Annabel Lee, who's ducking the usual JDate inappropriates; and Ari, who almost took a homeless guy back to her apartment for some lovin' and warns mothers everywhere to hide their sons.

"A Kiddush for All the Single Women in the World"

I love a good shidduch (match). In this case, the shidduch was between a post on Jewlicious and Daphna, a single woman in Jerusalem. The post informed the Jewlicious public about Reb Chaim's Worldwide Kiddush, a Shabbat kiddush happening in the Old City of Jerusalem in honor of all the single women in the world; through out the eating and drinking those in attendance would be "collecting" mazal-tovs (congratulatory wishes) and hopefully, those mazal-tovs would speed the arrival of soulmates for those who were single and searching. If you're skeptical, and this kind of event sounds like it was rife with potential to be overly heavy-handed and preachy, don't worry. Daphna was hesitant too. In fact, on Jewlicious, she anticipated that it might be "[k]inda like the space aliens call when they beam down eerily seductive signals from their giant space ships so that they can suck you up and perform bizarre medical experiments on you before they send you back to your real life in which everyone will now think you are nuts apart from a couple groupies in Roswell." (My response: who couldn't use a spiritual anal probe these days?) What happened? Read the full account on her blog. But suffice it to say that everyone won here: Daphna showed everyone how fearless and funny she is; Jewlicious gets the mitzvah points for making the shidduch; and Reb Chaim was able to facilitate a true spiritual encounter for a single woman. In Daphna's own words:

If it is true that I really do not know whether I believe that what I did today will have any effect on my finding a beschert, it is also true that I walked away with the feeling that, if anyone might have a shot of pulling such a miracle out of the pocket of heaven, Reb Chaim would.

Faith can be so elusive. It's nice to know that there are people reaching out and trying to make a difference in the lives of often-communally-neglected observant singles population.

Truth and Consequences (Salon)

Anna Jane Grossman, of BreakupNews.com, on truth and online dating in Salon:

Meeting people on the Internet was nothing new to [LA resident Jessica] Walters, who had spent her high-school years talking to people all over the world in chat rooms. "I remember feeling like people were pretty straightforward about themselves when we'd chat," she said. "They didn't seem to be pretending they were something they weren't."

So when the first guy who contacted her through JDate revealed on his profile that he was only 5-foot-3, Walters assumed he was telling the truth.

I think we all know where the story goes from here. And it involves the words "Oompa Loompa." (Not my joke; Walters's.)

Read the rest of the story here. (And who's that quoted on page 2?)

Friday Night Lights (new column)

When I was in college, Chabad made a huge push for Jewish women to light Shabbat candles every Friday night. If, for one solitary Sabbath, every Jewish woman in the world lit a pair of candles, the campus rabbi maintained, the unity and peace of that one worldwide act would bring the Messiah. Unfortunately, as long as I live in my flammable little studio, I’m going to have to live with the fact that the continued imperfection of our pre-Messianic world may be my fault.

In case you haven't seen it on My Urban Kvetch or in your own personal copy of The Jewish Week, here's the link to my new column, Friday Night Lights.

Blogdentity Crisis

Crisis may be too strong a word. But still, this blog has definitely changed. When we first began in April 2004, this was our purpose:

There are thousands of us out here, in the online netherworld, shopping for love and companionship over the Internet...We have experienced the joy of an email from someone we thought we found interesting, only to be disappointed in real life. We have encountered people who lied about their height and interests. We have chatted with people online who seem witty with the 10-20 second IM delay, and moved the relationship to the phone, only to find that their conversational skills are clearly lacking. We have wondered how to handle the delicate situations we encounter, and have sought advice from friends. Now, there's one more friend to consult... The goal of this blog is to record our experiences, good and bad, of men and women, serial JDaters and novices, from NYC to L.A. and everywhere in between. When the muse inspires, there will be features, rants and raves on related subjects. But this is your blog, your forum. Speak.

I vowed to myself that I wouldn't write about the people in my life, because it wasn't fair to present a story that was half theirs, but strip them of their voices. Besides, just because the chemistry wasn't right with me didn't mean that person wouldn't make a great boyfriend/husband/companion for someone else. The one time I wrote about a specific person in a blog post happened on My Urban Kvetch, and it was after a decade. And I had learned that he had just been married. And, just to be sure he was unrecognizable, I changed his name. I was extremely careful about such things. As weeks and months wore on, with my commitment to being a neutral zone open to all and that wasn't about me, content was less of the "speak and be heard" variety and more of a way for singles-columnist me to track trends and patterns in online and offline dating, with the occasional foray into "I can't believe he (or she) did this (or that)." But over the last several weeks, the content has changed*, and not in a manner that's totally comfortable for me. And these are posts that I may yet live to regret, because they, in some small way, violate that promise I made to myself when I started blogging. I'm still not naming names or specifics. I'm writing about the emotional fallout from such encounters or expectations thwarted, often in so abstract a manner that it can confuse people who don't know me. I write as myself, under my own name, of my own experiences. I'm trying to reinforce my emotional fortitude by being more open about how I feel, writing my way through perceived and actual betrayals of whatever magnitude, and letting that come through in my writing. And at the same time, I'm trying to maintain the reputations of the people who, often through no real fault of their own, made me feel this way. Because the inquisition is all internal, it's easy for me to write about what I'm feeling, and extremely difficult to push that "Publish" button. I've learned that with a few exceptions, people protect their own interests, and that's a lesson I could stand to internalize, in moderation, at least. I find myself wondering if this kind of writing does me a disservice, even if I don't name names. Perhaps it would be better to slay my demons privately instead of expelling my disappointments into the blogosphere to land in the ears of the similarly disappointed. Perhaps I should refocus the blog on observing the trends and contributing snarky commentary that keeps everyone laughing, and feeling like they've found a community. But then again, the emotional posts seem to have found their own audience, and a network of support has reached back from an Internet void to embrace me and provide me with desperately-needed comfort. I'll have to give this some serious thought. Your feedback, as always, is welcome. *The posts that inspired this one: The Single Gal's Survival Guide...Up Late...Emotional Jetlag

Emotional Jetlag

From 0 to 60 to 30,000 feet, I’m back at 0. Back to the standard yellow alert that keeps me on edge, but not frantic. Back to normal. But somehow, normal seems nowhere near as normal as I remembered. I don’t know what I was expecting, but hometown doldrums are unaltered by departures and arrivals, by endless terminals that in name alone sound deadly, by points of origin and destinations that seem extremely different at journey’s start than they do after all the mileage has been accrued. It’s a short trip from optimism to pessimism, from elation to deflation. And during the trip entire, I’m still just me. As far as I've traveled, I've returned to a circumstance unaltered by my experiences. Still, it's a journey. I pass through insecurity, a checkpoint I am all too used to. Unshoeing myself, I feel my socks, the protectors of my tender toes, slip on shiny, happy linoleum. My footing unstable, I wonder if metal detectors can detect the slow, metallic hardening of a human heart. I dismiss the melodrama and put my shoes back on. Dragging a suitcase, now with only one wheel functioning, I wondered: did my bag travel on hope, with optimism contained just within a zipped compartment? Or was it despair that kept my carry-on rolling on, in the knowledge that to stop would result in paralysis? Then, the answer: hope and despair are too closely connected to separate. They are conjoined twins; one will die without the other. And that's why distance can make you sad and proximity can make you sadder: because the closer you are, the more your heart feels the once and future distance. In a wireless lounge, hope rebooted leads to some endless area of the undeveloped internet, where I am lost in the land of 404-filenotfounds of missed connections and opportunities. I can’t explain it away, argue it out of existence in front of a jury of my fears. I’m judge and defendant and prosecutor. Interpretation and reinterpretation are the soul purview of self, and the burden of justice weighs heavily. It's not just about him. Undoubtedly, the rawer, recent part of it is. But part of it is residual,--the infectious, previously latent remnants of the other disappointments that litter my mind, the other potentials who never actualized, never became anything of substance. Not fair to make him the lightning rod for decades' disappointment; still I feared his reaction like terrorism. Somehow I knew that unspoken, my meaning would sweep by him as airborne intangible; he'd judge the longing as irrational, nonspecific and dismissable--even amid protestations of my greatness, dismissing me in the process. Compared to war, hunger, crime, poverty, suffering, death…I know this disappointment is a luxurious indulgence, my grief only a whisper of a truer heartbreak: my caught breath and swallowed tears are hyberbolic nothing. But there’s no pretending that the sadness doesn’t go deep. Deeper than canyons seen from airplanes or betrayal or deceit or chasms of misunderstanding or relationships you overimagined. Back then, I took in the ambiguity willfully, like clichés, or carbon monoxide. Part of me preferred to live with a desperate unstable hope in ambiguous silence. While uncertainty is torturous immobility, it also preserves possibility. In immobility, new wounds cannot be inflicted: past stays past, potential seems horizon-limitless, and futures seem more hopeful. Instead, I seized the reins, demanded truth. Received my certainty with a side of heartbreak. Here, where I am now, feels like a place of impossible and insatiable thirst—tired and irritable, I’m parched for contact. In some moments, hairline fractures in my heart belabor vital breath and it feels like I’m eroding. Now, having never begun, it's over. Lesson learned: that if you ask for nothing you get nothing. But sometimes, even when you ask, you still get nothing.

Florida? London? Israel?...All Jewtopias

That's right, everyone's favorite Jewtopians, Bryan Fogel and Sam Wolfson, are going international. According to the Jerusalem Post, in addition to the NYC and Chicago productions that are currently running, and the screenplay that's in development, the duo has plans to launch productions in Florida (a natural), London (alert the Bloghead), and Israel (where it will undoubtedly be greeted with mixed reviews: "it's hilarious!"... "it's a threat to Judaism!"). Now, if only they had a blog, they'd be really huge news... And this is beginning to inspire me to get back to writing my JDate musical...

Kosher Prom Dates?

Well, most of you already know about My Secret Yeshiva Prom. (Which, I guess, means it ain't a secret no more.) But although the event itself was a little underground, I'm pretty sure that everyone's date was Jewish. But according to this article in the Jewish Week, a Westchester area Solomon Schechter school (Conservative) announced that students would only be allowed to bring dates who were Jewish:

While the school saw the directive as a way to stave off interfaith dating, Bertrand [a student whose father was Catholic when her parents married] and other students at the Hartsdale school said it encouraged creating a “self-imposed ghetto” that could generate resentment and even stoke the flames of anti-Semitism. “It was intended to promote Jewish continuity, but instead it insults non-Jews, it insults Solomon Schechter students, and it doesn’t reflect well on the school,” Bertrand said of the Jewish-only prom policy, which remains in place today. Worse, she said, the decree might inadvertently prove racist. “Most people can pass as Jewish,” said Bertrand, now 18, noting that school officials would be hard pressed to determine at the door who was Jewish. “If the school was going to investigate students they suspected brought non-Jewish dates, the only red flag would be if someone was another race.”

And I was worried about bringing someone Conservative to my underground yeshiva prom...

The Week in Dating

This week has been a varied and interesting one for bloggers who date or post about the single life: Chayyei Sarah gets called back by a man. Really. It happened. But like I told her, it sounds kind of fishy, because that never happens in New York. So I have a call into the urban legends sites, just to be sure. Nice Jewish Girl (“34 and never been kissed”) posts an update on her struggle with Orthodox Judaism and her desire for physical and spiritual companionship. The Anonymous Blogger has a “dating emergency,” in which a woman writes him for advice. Read the post and his readers’ comments here. An anonymous reader shared info on “G-Spot,” the newest Canadian attempt to replicate the saucy success of Sex and the City. This info from TVTome is about episode 5, in which:

Well, that's it. Gigi's only doing Jews from now on. She doesn't care who they are - no one goes down on her unless they go to Temple! With Roxy's help, she takes matters into her own hands and enrolls in a Jewish internet dating site.

All of JDA's Canadian readers are invited to send their reviews of this series to me. Plus, is the old "When Harry Met Sally" adage true? Is it impossible for men and women to be friends without "the sex thing getting in the way"? Dr. Janice revisits the issue of friendships between men and women. Read the bulletin board postings and post your reactions here. And if you enjoy watching brides humiliating themselves for cash (and what red-blooded American singleton doesn't?), then you missed a bridal bonanza yesterday, as Bridezilla sponsored a contest in Times Square for brides to find a $50,000 check in a wedding cake. (How many Points is that?) Ah, dignity. No word if “cake-diving” is going to become a national pastime. This only would have been better if, during the cake-scavation, all of the brides’ bridesmaids had been on hand to beat the brides over the head with their own bouquets. (Not that I’m encouraging anti-bride violence.) Now that’s entertainment.

Interviewees Needed: Falling For "That Jerk"

Renatt Brodsky, a fellow freelancer, is working on an upcoming Glamour story titled, "Hate at first sight" - It's about women and how they ended up falling for "that jerk!." She writes:

I need quotes from women in their TWENTIES about their personal experiences with a guy who did something so unbelievable that they just can't believe they wanted to see him again and give him another chance. Like... insulted her, called her fat, vomited on her, tripped her, accidentally set her hair on fire... :) you get the picture. Here are some good examples:

"I thought RD’s accent sounded just like Forest Gump when I first met him at a work event, and he was everything I swore I would never date--he was a hunter, drove a pickup truck, and liked chicken-fried steak. Still, I thought he was cute and a few days later we were emailing and talking on the phone. Because I didn't write him off, I found out that he was witty and smart. And even though my gastronomical parents are horrified, six years later, I actually like chicken-fried steak.” - Marcy John, 26, Dallas, Texas "I met this guy on vacation in Cabo San Lucas. He was acting like a total frat boy--talking really loud and telling jokes that weren't funny. Then he bought me a beer and spilled it on me! After the trip, we reconnected again back home in San Francisco over email (he was on an email list of people I met on the trip), and a few days later I reluctantly invited him to dinner with some friends. Everyone thought he was so great and said I was crazy if I didn’t go on a date with him. It turned out, though, that away from the beer and the bar, he was charming and down to earth. Forget Mexico, he turned out to be the great treasure of San Francisco." -Michelle Marlin 29, San Francisco, California If you have a great anecdote about a jerk you lusted after again and again--please email me the following information by Wednesday, June 8 2005, 9 a.m. 1. first and last name 2. age 3. city, state 4. email 5. number 6. your quote.

Please email her with any questions, and tell her you found out about it from Esther, from JDatersAnonymous...

Up Late

When you're up late, you say and do things you shouldn't. You contact people you'd be better off without, at least in the short term. Because the interactions, long awaited, are never what you'd expected or hoped for. They fall short. And the disappointment scrapes off any scab over the wound, and you feel it all over again. You might have thought that you were on the road to recovery. But you feel as lost as ever. And all you want to do is sleep. But you can't. Because you're still clinging to the hope that the next time will be soon, and better than it was. And now you've done it. You've brought it on yourself now. It's fresh. And man, does it hurt.

The Single Gal's Survival Guide

...to disappointment: 1) Cry. It's all right to cry. Crying takes the sad out of you. OK, so it doesn't. But it still beats holding it in for years and having it surface during an NBC re-airing of Titanic. 2) Phone a friend. Important to have someone there to counter the self-deprecation and negativity that you'll undoubtedly hurl at yourself. Also important to make sure that you're not alone when you... 3) Find glass, add ice, pour Jack Daniels into glass. Consider adding Diet Coke, but you only have caffeinated and you don't want your elixir to keep you up all night. 4) Turn off all instant messengers and screen your phonecalls. Make outgoing calls to female friends only; male friends who are married are okay to call too. But do not call or otherwise communicate with single male "friends." You don't want to drink-and-dial (or imbibe-and-IM) when you're in this state of mind. This way, madness lies. 5) Go to bed earlyish, and realize that you haven't been to sleep before midnight in months. Resolve to get more sleep in the future, even as you know you're swearing oaths to yourself that you'll never keep. As you fall asleep, listen to music that contains a soothing rhythm, soaring passion, and a subtle melancholy. 6) Wake to find yourself in possession of two empty boxes of tissues, two puffy eyes and one big headache, which you decide to address by the name of Mr. Daniels. Promise yourself that yesterday's frustration will fuel today's workout, and load up the MP3 player with blisteringly popalicious Top 40 tunes mixed with old school heavy metal. 7) Go through the motions, even as you realize that there's still lots to work out, and that only time, if anything, will remove the splinters of pain and disappointment from the soft undersides of your feet. You know that every step will hurt until it doesn't. Buy insoles. Cover nascent blisters with band-aids. But do everything in your power to keep walking.

Ari's Thoughts

My girl Ari, who was the first to cross over from my blog-life into a three-dimensional plane, is a true original. Sassy, smart and irreverent, she is devoted to her friends, and just like the rest of us, thinking too much. Go on over. Say hi. And tell her how great she is.

She Says Yes...

In case anyone was concerned for Seth Menachem, who proposed to his girlfriend in a Singles column, he's written another column in which he reveals that she accepted the proposal. Mazal tov to the happy couple.

Dear Dating Diary: Today I Was "Reclassified"

I struggle with labels, really I do. I’ve long said that everyone these days seems eager to slap a new and inventive label (Hippiedox, Conservadox, Flexidox) on themselves in order to describe their uniquely complex and nuanced relationship with Judaism ( e.g., “I go to an Orthodox shul, but go to the gym Shabbat afternoon, and will take the subway because, like a Shabbat elevator, it stops at every station anyway”). As a result, no label really means anything anymore. So, during my brief period on Frumster, I aligned myself with the most newly founded and most liberal category or label: “Traditional and Growing.” I chose this label because not choosing a label was not an option, and because this seemed like the most moderate, the most liberal, the most (if not exactly) resemblant of my observance. All the other labels included terms that I would never use to describe myself: yeshivish, black hat, ba’al teshuvah, etc) Because the people contacting me were never people I could see myself with religiously (and because none of them seemed to possess anything resembling a sense of humor), I deactivated my Frumster profile last month, but today, got this message from their customer support team informing me that I’d been reclassified.”

For more, read the post and its 85 comments at Jewlicious. The site's undergoing renovations, but the content's all there...

Fear Factor: The Non-Date

If you haven't been there, you're lucky. I have been on non-dates more times than I can count. Now that I think about it, most of my dates (and all of my best dates) have been non-dates. It always starts off as fun, promising, with a palpable potential, that by date's end (or "non-date's non-end" as the case may be) you're emotionally shredded by your confusion, self-doubt and by the messages that you're perceiving as mixed, but which in fact may not be clear, but which you are certainly resisting absorbing. It's like an episode of SNL's "It's Pat," where you're trying to figure out what that person is, and how they fit into your understanding of your life, and everytime you get a (romantically or) sexually charged clue, the person counters it with a term of neutrality. So why not just ask? Just summon up some courage from a nether dimension where courage abounds as a natural resource, and spit out the words into the air? Because courage is in short supply, and we're petrified. And we have good reason to be scared. Most declarations of romantic intent are met with a less than enthusiastic reception, and whatever friendship was beginning to take root usually ceases to grow; it's like our expression of honesty and yearning was death to fertile soil, the emotional equivalent of sowing the earth with salt, so that nothing will ever again grow there. Or, as Ken puts it:

So, instead of making a fool of yourself, you go on a series of these nondates and with each passing one get progressively crazier, act increasingly weirder--you fret, you hope, you worry, you moon, you envy and, yes, you even pine--until finally you just snap and say "HOLY SHIT I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE. YOU'RE DRIVING ME CRAZY AND I THINK I LOVE YOU." And when that happens? Well, there's a very, very slim chance that the other person will say, "Oh my god. Me too!" But the smart money goes on the other response: He or she shouts "Hey, look over there! It's Steve Perry from Journey!" and then, the minute you turn your head, runs away, never to be seen from again.

Or, in the case of living in a densely packed community like the Upper West Side, you will continue to see that person everywhere. At every social event, at ever synagogue you visit, at every Shabbat dinner everywhere. Frankly, you're going to see them anyway, so there's no point in accelerating the misery by making them uncomfortable too. Better to pull away slightly, for the sake of your own sanity. Besides:

If you find yourself on the third or fourth hang-out, nondate or whatever, chances are you are dating this person only in your own mind. If the other person were as into you as you are into him or her, you'd already be holding hands on the subway, playing tonsil hockey in the park and generally making a nuisance of yourself in public.

And you, being a smart person, have realized that you are doing none of these things. Even if the other person makes you feel like no one else, even if there's a connection there you haven't felt with anyone in years, even if you have a strange conviction that this person is someone who was meant for you, you stay quiet. You wait for the signal, the one sign that will translate into a romantic green light. Sometimes you see glimmers of this everywhere...hints that the feelings run deep on both sides. But nine times out of ten, that's called denial. The signal you're waiting for will never come. You learn that marinating in your own misery is preferable to cutting yourself open and plucking out your heart to offer it to a non-receptive audience. You continue your pining and mooning, and everything else, but treat it as a process of grief. All you can hope for is that after your denial and anger, eventually acceptance will come. In the interim, you paint on your smile, hope it fools everyone else, and try to beat back the sadness. [Inspired, obviously, by Ken's post.]

Singles Writer Proposes in Column

I don't know what to think about this. Seth Menachem, at the end of his singles column about commitment and finding the right girl, proposed to his girlfriend Carrie. The hopeless romantic in me is weeping tears of joy for the happy couple. And the cynical single in me is calling the whole thing too cheesy for words. To sum up, this proposal is either: a) the sweetest thing ever b) vomitatious Of course, wishing the happy couple all the best.

Romance, Religion, Kidnapping and Craigslist

Sometimes, I find myself wishing that I was born into a more religious community, where dating would be different, and I thought, easier. A community where there is less emphasis on romantic choice, and therefore more likelihood that I would be in a different stage of adulthood by now, raising my children in perfect faith within a community that shared my values, even if I never had the chance to challenge them through emotional inquiry. But being super-religious isn't all fun and games in the romance department. This story has already been circulating for a few days, but I felt the need to have it here too as part of this week's romance roundup.

The wayward son of a powerful rabbinic family kidnaps and violently abuses his teenage sister's would-be suitor to prevent an affair that violates the family's strict religious codes. The real-life tale culminated in the arrest earlier this week of the wife, daughter and son of Israel's Sephardic chief rabbi, Shlomo Amar, and two alleged Bedouin accomplices. The family members were suspected in the abduction and assault of a 17-year-old, ultra-Orthodox youth because they reportedly objected to his relationship with the rabbi's 18-year-old daughter, Ayala, whom he met in an Internet chat room.

"In our society, as long as people are not married ... no contact between a girl and a boy is acceptable," [another of the family's sons who was not involved in the abduction] said.

That's in Israel. But here in America, on the internet juggernaut that is the Craigslist M4W board, we have seen posts from religious people seeking sexual liaisons with people outside their community and outside their marriages. Now (hat tip: Dov Bear), a prophet of old seems to have emerged, and has taken on Craigslist as his personal shonda (source of embarrassment) to be eradicated through the time-honored technique of tokhakhah (rebuke for the purpose that the miscreant should repent). Here's an excerpt (spellings preserved, translations mine):

Aishes ish [relations with another man's wife] causes mamzeirim [bastards] in klal yisoel [klal yisroel: the Jewish people]. Cheating on one's wife is also ASUR [forbidden]! Imagine what you are doing to your children - to your families! Giluy Arayos [forbidden sexual relations] is yahareg v'al ya'avor [a sin you are commanded to die for rather than commit]! Arayos is one of the three cardinal sins - on par with muder and idolatry. This is the downfall of our society. Even if they are strictly amongst single people, it is terrible. Even if the ads are not real, they are still a terrible chilul [desecration of God's name]. Even if you think nobody knows, it is still terrible. Even if you think nobody will ever find out, besides for you being wrong, it is still terrible.

You know I'm more moderate than the people who posted both the ads and this rebuke to the people who are looking for these liaisons. But I think that what they point to is the power of the Internet to reflect things about ourselves, and even in our most religious communities, that we wouldn't cop to in real life. Married people looking for no-strings sexual relationships with other people should be working on their marriages; maybe the two people were never suited for each other anyway and only got married because of parental/communal/social pressure. ("I can't believe I'm 20, and haven't met my bashert yet!") Maybe they grew up thinking that boys were liars and girls were stupid. Or maybe the kids in question weren't fully-cooked individuals and shouldn't have committed to a relationship with someone else that was supposed to be forever while half-baked. Whether or not there's rebuke involved, the mere presence of these ads and the story about the kidnapping illustrates that life isn't always greener on the other side of the religious spectrum, and that a more restrictive and isolated lifestyle isn't always to be envied. Relationships are hard, and when it comes down to it, maybe the success of the relationship is really up to the two individuals who are trying to make it work.

"Instant" Gratification

My new singles column, "'Instant' Gratification," is now online.

In the age of the Internet, who writes love letters anymore? The romantic epistolary tradition has gone high-tech; online love is all about the Instant Message (IM) window, with its unique language of shorthand endearments: BRB (be right back), IMHO (in my humble opinion) and the ultimate phrase representing devotion and commitment potential, the coveted LOL (laughing out loud). But at the end of an e-communication, can we trust our memory of what happened? Absent of intonation and physical cues, how do we discern if a sentiment is mutual? And how real is the connection for today’s daters?

Click here to read the article in its entirety. Thanks to all of you who helped out with this article by emailing me or leaving your comments here. This is one of those columns that has your names written all over it... Enjoy!

Reason #34: YOU CAN NEVER NEVER NEVER TRUST A BOY

I try to be open-minded and respectful, really I do. Occasionally, I slip into an area that's more of a loving lampoon than an angry tirade, which is just part of being single, I think. I especially try to be open-minded to Jewish or religious ways and views which are not my own. (For instance, although I don't choose to share her lifestyle, I linked to Nice Jewish Girl and could appreciate what she had to say. I thought it was incredibly brave for her to explore her heart's desire in the context of her religious commitment. Others disagreed with me on the bravery front, but still...) I'd like to be that person who can get along with Jews (and in fact, non-Jews as well) of all religious stripes. It's all good, and it's all about love. But today, I came across this list on FrumTeens.com, a website for religious teenagers to discuss various issues. The list (located in the "Long Skirts and 'Platonic' Relationships" forum of the site) is titled "71 Reasons Not to Talk to Boys." And aside from the appalling spelling (and I mean, appalling), I'm a little frightened. I'm not saying this to ridicule the members of the list, God forbid. I just don't understand how advocating a complete separation between the sexes until it's courtship time can be a good thing. Some examples (spelling and punctuation preserved)... 3) You risk getting caught by, and being thrown out of your school Maybe because it's not my community, but I don't understand how talking to a boy leads to expulsion from school. In my yeshiva high school (which admittedly was co-ed), I was reprimanded for cuffing my friend Mark on the shoulder once (a rabbi saw me, and gave me a "you know you're not supposed to touch boys" speech). But I never got the feeling that I was in any danger of expulsion. 6) You WILL NOT stay shomer negiyah [not touching the opposite sex], which is also assur [forbidden]-(a yaharog veal yaavor[a sin so grievous that you should be killed rather than transgress it]) Much discussion follows as to the exact origin of the prohibition against opposite-sex discourse, with some people disagreeing as to the character of the sin as yaharog v'al ya'avor. 7) The guy is 100% talking bad about you to his frineds in one way or another I think this breeds a distrust of all men for all time. How do you go from being paranoid about all boys to trusting one man enough to spend your life with him? And it's not like girls are never mean to other girls. If you can't trust boys and you can't trust girls, who does that leave you with? 9) Every boy is a liar, a pervert, a jerk, and you will eventually find this out OK. I've got no problems with this one. I'm kidding. I would say we can all be liars, perverts and jerks, boys and girls alike. And this one, like number 7, breeds a mistrust of all men that will undoubtedly follow the girls into their adult and married lives. 26) a guy will prob @#$% %** cus of you,, and thats like one of the wosrt averriois [sins], and im sure we get part of it I'm guessing that missing word has something to do with self-love, but to me the concept that girls shouldn't talk to boys because said boys might go home and think of the girls when they, ahem, you know is like saying that we should stop producing peanut butter because some people are allergic to it. OK, so it's not a perfect analogy, but that it falls to girls to prevent adolescent boys from pleasuring themselves? Please. And of course, there's #34, the one that inspired my post here today: YOU CAN NEVER NEVER NEVER TRUST A BOY How many "never"s is that? I'm with Maidel123, who points out: While I agree that there are many negative elements of guys and girls talking for no particular reason it is also important not to paint the opposite gender as evil or anything of that sort. Not just because it's not nice, but because I'm not sure I understand how, for example, a girl would make the change from thinking guys are scum etc. etc. to thinking that THE guy is the one with whom you'll share so many things-a relationship as a couple, builders of a Jewish home, builders of a Jewish family...so while members of the opposite gender may not be APPROPRIATE they are not inherently CH"V [that's an abbreviation for chas v'chalilah, which means God forbid] evil. Much discussion on the boards ensues, from both boys and girls (and I suspect there are some older men and women there too, as the spelling and sentence structure is vastly improved in some of the subsequent responses). If I were still in my yeshiva high school, as constricted as I felt there, I know that this bulletin board/forum would have been way too right-wing for me. I just hope that these girls and boys don't grow up so scared of each other that it creates marriages that are built on foundations of mistrust and fear. (Hat tip for the list, even though he may not like what I've done with it: Seraphic Secret)