JDaters Anonymous

At the risk of sounding self-promotional (a risk I take regularly), I wanted to re-share one of my best-received and most-often-remembered singles columns; it’s thematically appropriate for the Yamim Noraim (High Holydays) and has this year been reprinted in both the AZ Jewish Post and the Jewish Journal of Greater Los Angeles. Rereading the litany of dating sins again this year, I am a little depressed by how many of them I am still guilty of. Here’s to not perpetrating them in the New Year:

In this season of atonement, Jews of every stripe of observance stream into temples, synagogues, shteibels and shuls to recount their wrongs. Beating their breasts in repentance, they beg for absolution for the sins they have committed in their daily human interactions over the past year. On Yom Kippur, many wear canvas sneakers, the plainest of shoes, in a show of simplicity and humility.

As singles, trying on different slippers and hoping for a perfect fit, we have assayed to squeeze ourselves into many an improper shoe during the past year, blistering ourselves and others in the process, becoming callused as we try to move our lives forward. This battered state yields an impressively long list (and uncomfortable memories) of dating-related crimes and misdemeanors. It is only fitting that past and current singles seize this moment to take stock of the unique ways that we have wronged each other, as men, as women, as eligibles populating the same singles pool. Once and for all, let’s take the sin out of singles.

Just like the Al Chet – the prayer in the Yom Kippur liturgy wherein the individual confesses to a litany of collective sins – that inspired it, this original reading is also written in third person plural. We may not recall having committed each of the individual sins in this reading, but as members of the global singles community, we admit to every transgression, in the New Year’s hope that the memory of this confession will make us think twice before committing future infractions.

Preliminary studies suggest that this reading is at its most potent when read responsively before or after a singles event. For maximum dramatic effect, read the first two lines in each stanza responsively, first men, then women. The third sentence should be recited by men and women together. And while we’re asking God for forgiveness, remember – it can’t hurt to beg for a vision or a bat kol (heavenly voice) that reveals the e-mail address of your bashert (intended). Or at least a location, so you know whether you’re trying on uncomfortable shoes in the right city.

To read the rest of the article, click here…

A friend IMs me today…she says she “NEVER” gets e-mailed on JDate. But in the last week she’s had 3 e-mails:

One from a gay guy telling me I’m cute and he’d date me if he was straight.
One e-mail from a lesbian asking me if I ever get curious.
And the last e-mail was from an Italian guy who is not Jewish and does not believe in religion.

And now, cue the reader who tells me how great JDate is and that her cousins and her best friends met on the site and are now happily married with lots of little rugrats. Also, the reader who tells me that I’m just bitter. And then the other readers who leap to my rescue.

I love you guys!

Daily, there’s this thing that lives with you, whether you invited it in or not. It’s called tedium, and sometimes it goes by a nickname, like “Ted” or “lease renewal,” or “blind dating.” But whatever you call it, it’s like a cloud, obfuscating all else, making things inexorably hazier and robbing you of your Precious, whether it is something as complicated as happiness or as simple a pleasure as clarity.

And believe me, this summer, though full of wonderful things, was also the summer of Ted. Everything good that emerged from the last three months has had its own process of painful, sleep-depriving birth–none of it coming with a lovely and dreamlike injection of painkillers and muscle relaxers. It’s not like I labored and no one believes me. People know. People acknowledge. I hold magazines and newsletters in my hands, and have expanded my Rolodex and Facebook friends list. But I think–and this is a hard thing to admit–that the minimal sleep and intense creativity might be having an adverse effect, and my recovery time is not what it once was.

Which is why moments of Tedlessness, in which the fog doesn’t so much lift dramatically as dissipate molecularly, in small, barely perceptible minutes, are so precious. These times provide reinvigoration, and spiritual renewal, or other new agey sounding patchouliness. It’s why I’m glad that I’ve come to realize that the people and endeavors that inspire me, and who are present in my life aren’t just there randomly–they and I both are part of a larger story.

Gone are the days of “we all met in college and have been friends ever since.” Gone are the days of “we’ve been friends ever since we met at camp when we were twelve.” Or, at least, those days are gone to me. These days, when I look at a person, I remember our specific story. I sift through perceived and actual memories of our meeting, our first encounter, which, more often than not, was through the internet, or through something that I’d written. A reader put us in touch, hoping it would provide more work. (It did, repeatedly, along with a lasting friendship and partnership.) A colleague put us in touch, thinking we’d get along. (We did, incredibly well.) An Israel program showed us the relativity of age and the importance of finding creative people to partner with. (And we did, intensely and with great success.) In one case, although it certainly gives me no pleasure or ad revenue to admit it, I might have even met one of the members of my creative posse through JDate.

I enjoy these larger stories because it makes me feel like life is less random, like there’s definitely a karma-like aspect to putting out creativity and having it boomerang back at you in an incredibly inspiring and non-violent fashion. It creates within a cynical heart the possibility of redemption, and provides a chamber for the echoes of optimism that escape, pinging about a cavernous mind, and bouncing off its walls. It makes me believe, even if foolishly and naively, that we’re more in control of what happens in our lives than we might ever estimate on a given day.

Which is why on those most normal of everyday days, it’s important to see a larger picture, and enjoy the larger story. Especially if the day in question happens to be a day of Ted.