Some of my dates go well, others, like the time my grandmother set me up with her mahjong partner’s grandson, not as well. He ate sushi with his hands and complained about how he a) was doing this out of obligation to his grandmother and b) had just procured dance lessons because he felt his lack of said skills was keeping him from getting hot girls at clubs. “If this were a real date, I wouldn’t pick up my phone,” he mouthed politely as he took his third call in half an hour. Scratch him off the man-of-my-dreams list.
I realize I’m at the age where people suggest in not so subtle terms that I should invest all available hours in pruning my SawYouAtSinai profile, cruising JDate, or generally alerting all temple newsletters this side of the Mississippi that my dateable years are in their sunset hours.
I got the memo. But I’m not going to push it. I’m starting to get the idea that sometimes it works, sometime it doesn’t.
Still, when the High Holidays come around, I feel the weight of judgment, and not just because this time of year is about reflecting on decisions past and future. I’ve got aunts and uncles joking about how many Jewish men there must be in New York City. And half the kids I grew up with walking in to synagogue arm-in-arm with the loves of their lives, some now with kids of their own. That’s just not my life right now. And 362 days out of the year, I’m okay with that.
A friend called last night asking if it was too soon to take a guy she’s been seeing home—on an airplane—for Rosh Hashana. If she doesn’t take him home, will he think she''s not really interested? If she does, does it seem like she''s expecting a ring next Tuesday? What if she’s the only one who doesn’t have a guy in tow at family dinner?
They''ve been dating for three and a half weeks.
Some things are not worth losing sleep over, even if grandma''s aggressively hinting at great grandbabies. I’m in a city with more singles events a day than I have fingers and toes. There are wine tastings, hikes, art appreciation dinners and speed dating events. There are billboards sporting nice Jewish boys with profiles on web dating services all over the city. What am I worried about? I fully intend to bring someone to meet my wacky family for the High Holidays—just not this year.
My grandmother emailed the other day to ask if I’ve heard of JDate. She’s just getting started on the Internet. I assured her that yes, I''d heard of it. And others. Yes, I’m interested in boys. Yes, I’m going out tonight, yes there will be boys there, no, no one in particular. What about that boy I went out with, the mahjong friend’s grandson? I pause. I’ll save that story for Rosh Hashanah.