Frum N' Flipping

Sometimes a boy and a girl meet, on a Shidduch date, and they know right away that they are perfect for each other. They have the same Hashkafa, outlook on life, the same ideals. They have the same hobbies, and CDs, and favorite books. The character traits they were looking for, their "list", is sitting right across from them, in flesh and blood. They should be thrilled, because perhaps they've found their soul mate. There's only one problem. They aren't very happy about it. "There are classical music concerts for free, on Monday afternoons" Daniel said. "I go to them with my sister, she's also in Jerusalem this year" "That's so interesting" says Karen. "I love classical music. I never heard of those free concerts." So he's a fan of classical music, the same way she is. Another point in his favor. Why is she wishing this date was over? "I think balance is very important", Karen is saying. &quo

Sunshine, grass, trees, wind catching at her hair, shadows falling in patterns on the ground, the gentle sounds the world made, when it was left alone. And Avner, always Avner. He crouched beside her as she bent close to a wild flower, perched on a boulder as she climbed up to where there was a better view. Brachy grew to know the steady click of his camera's shutter, as he snapped frame after frame, always staying within breathing distance. Brachy giggled, as she watched the group gathering around one lone blossoming tree, surrounding it on all sides with their cameras and eager gazes. She flipped the lid off the lens. "Makes you feel sorry for the tree, doesn't it?" Avner whispered into her ear. Brachy jumped. She smiled up at him, but moved away, putting some distance between them. He continued, ignoring her reaction. "So much pressure. I sure hope that poor tree is photogenic." "Rather it than me." Brachy said. "Oh I'd w

You know those Shidduch posts you read, somewhere, anywhere, and really love? The ones where your reaction is "That's exactly how I feel", the ones that leave you thinking, or get you grinning. Tell us about them! We are collecting the best of the Shidduch Blogosphere, over here . Our goal- Publication. Don't you feel sorry for those poor souls who don't have Internet access, or who haven't yet discovered the blogosphere? And wouldn't it be great, to have the very best posts collected in one book? Our motivation- Making a real difference in how singles are being viewed in the Frum Community, and providing a genuine, uncensored, well written narrative about Shidduchim Bad4Shidduchim launched the project today. Here are some FAQs we are being asked: Who can nominate a blog post? Anyone! You don't even have to register on the site (although it would be cool if you did!) Can I nominate my own blog posts? Yes! Who knows your best posts bette

They fascinated me. They lived beside us, but in a system entirely apart. Talking to them would cast me into a state of mortal sin, but I badly wanted to hear how yeshiva boys lived, and talked, and thought. I wanted to hear what went in within the hallowed halls where my feet could never tread. I gathered up crumbs of information, snippets of conversations. And I wondered. Fast forward ten years, out of high school and into Shidduchim. Yeshiva boys are coming out of my ears. Can this be God's repayment for my once secret interest? "You want to hear what it's like in Yeshiva, do you? You'll hear what it's like in a hundred Yeshivas!" For I am now an expert on Yeshivas. A Chareidi colleague discusses where to send his son to Yeshiva. I inundate him with a wealth of information; I tell him the pros and cons of each institution, the type of boys who go there, the families they come from, the staff's approach to Chinuch, and the comfort level of the fo

I have good news. In fact, I have fabulous news. You know how we are always venting about the Shidduch scene? Well, I misjudged it. The cloud does have a silver lining. The Shidduch world is not that bad after all! We can start counting our blessings. Blessing #1: There is no list of top eligible singles published every year in Hamodia. Let's all take a moment to say a little prayer of gratitude. (Something along the lines of"Thank you O Lord, for sparing us") For our less fortunate brethren, those abiding in the 'Swamp' of Kattamon, have this to deal with every year. When Nati on Srugim made it to an online list of eligible Religious singles, I wasn't sure if it was a joke. Turns out it's for real. Every year NRG publishes a list of the top Dati folk who are on the market for a spouse. I'm so glad I'm Chareidi! Or should we be starting our own version of "The List"?

"There are no words for this perfection. No mortal expression can capture the sublimity of your creation." Dovid took another bite of cheesecake, and rolled his hand around his stomach, to show how much he was enjoying it. "Thank you, thank you." Shulamit grinned. "So your big sis' is good for something, eh?" "Shulamit, you outdid yourself this year." Ima said. Shulamit's annual Shavuos cheesecake was a family tradition. "At least she's making the most of all the free time on her hands." Abba said. "Better a gourmet cheese cake than another hare brained scheme." Ima turned and frowned at him. At least on Yom Tov let there be no disagreements. "Actually, I have some amazing news!" Shulamit said, turning to her father. "Just wait till you hear this!" "Well go on then." He said, cutting himself another slice of cake. "I met this girl at the wedding last week, and I real

"What are your plans for this year?" That would be my boss talking. He looks at me expectantly. The answer is obvious. The words flash in my mind, as if spelled out in neon light bulbs on the top of a store front window. "Finish my novel." Wrong answer. There's no way I can say that. He doesn't even know I'm writing a novel. "My plans?" Stalling for time is always an option. "How do you want to develop this year?" He doesn't shift his gaze from my face. I take it "Finally get a driving license" is also out? How about "Work on my Middos"? Does that count as development? I spend a hefty chunk of my day here, between four office walls. I shouldn't just be killing time, waiting to leave, to date, to write. "I'd like more responsibility." I mumble. "And more opportunities for creativity." Yeah that sounds passably professional. Last year the answer I bit back was &

"'Just one date', they'd tell me. 'A couple of hours, why not? Isn't it worth a try?' "And they were right in a way. I couldn’t rule out guys before I'd met them. Because I'm a mix, and I needed a mix. I couldn't know ahead what was the exact combination of Israeli and Chutznik, of Yeshivish and open, that I needed. Because it depended on the guy really, it's not an exact science. So I kept trying. "But one date was never one date. There's the 'before', the whole getting ready business. But what's worse is the 'after', the deliberations, the 'should I try again?'. The hoping he'll say no, because you don't have the courage to be the one to end it. Second dates are almost autmoatic, because how can you know him properly after only one date? Eventually it ends, two or three dates later, one or two weeks later, after endless phone calls and debates. And it always ends for the reason that y

"We don't know each other. But maybe we'll get married one day. I like your name. I'm sure we'll fall madly in love" I grin. I wonder what he'll make of that! It serves him right for insisting on this crazy method for winnowing out the unsuitables. Then I crumple up the paper; I've got to try to take this seriously. I lay out a new blank white sheet on the desk. What should I write in a letter to someone I've never met, never even spoken to? It doesn't matter really. He just wants to see my handwriting. He doesn't care what I say. I can't believe I agreed to this; giving a guy a sample of my handwriting, so that he can analyze it, before we even go out. I bet he's not even my type. I don't go for this sort of stuff. My writing looks messy on the paper. I always joke that my handwriting is encrypted, because I'm the only one who can decipher it. I wonder what the scrawled letters and lines will teach him about me.

I'd love to see your comments on my guest post about being a fanatic in Jerusalem.

She tells me there's another way. She tells me it can be different. I try to keep my disbelief from showing; I try to keep the skepticism out of my eyes. I humor her. I nod along as she speaks. The poor girl can't be quite all there, if you know what I mean Her eyes are steady, as she looks back at me. She seems normal enough. Perhaps she merely doesn't realize the implications of her words, and no one has taken the trouble to teach her, to show her the way things need to be. Her statements tumble out in a stream of perplexities, until I break in, interrupting. I can't keep quiet any longer. "You go to the shows that sound the most 'fun'? You only go to Shiurim that you 'find interesting'?" She nods. She doesn't deny it. "What about weddings?" I ask her. "Which weddings do you attend?" "Weddings that I want to go to." "But what if there's nobody there?!" "There's always so

There was a kit for sale. Cheese, cookie crumbs, topping, all wrapped up neatly in a plastic tub, instructions included. It was tempting. She already had a cheesecake recipe, waiting at home, torn out from this week's Mishpacha. The ingredients she needed were listed on the back of the envelope, tucked in the purse somewhere, if only she could find it. The recipe had looked good, when she'd read it. But the half-the-work -done-for-you kit would be less work, less of a bother. It was double the price the ingredients would cost stand alone though. And it wouldn't come out as good. Besides, she made a cheesecake every year for Shavuos, she loved baking. What had gotten into her? She wondered what would happen if she went home, without the ingredients? What would happen if she didn't make a cheesecake? What would happen if she stayed home, and didn't go to Shul? Could she pretend it wasn't Yom Tov? Could she ignore the date, and wait for it to be over? Shav

It wasn't coming out right. Was it the lines that were wrong, the shading? Shulamit wanted the dress to be simple, fresh, but instead it looked flowery and naïve on paper. She ran a thick x through the center of the charcoal figure, and folded over the sheet. The blank whiteness of the new page reflected back at her, as if it were the enemy, mocking her. She'd never found it so difficult to work before. In school she'd always been drawing. While the teachers drawled on, while the girls giggled and gossiped, Shulamit had drawn out her fantasies, working her way back from the ends of notebooks to their centers, only stopping when she reached class notes and homework, encroaching from the beginning. The pictures she'd produced had been admired, praised. "You're so talented", they told her. 'You have a gift." "Don't forget us when you're famous." And she'd believed them. She'd always known what she wanted to be when sh

To stop you thinking I've been slacking off, to dispel the impression that I've been spending my free time lounging around in a hammock on the shores of the Caribbean, instead of typing away like a dutiful blogger should be, I figured it's time to post some links. I've been blogging for Midnight East at the International Writer's Festival in Jerusalem. (But don't get your hopes up- I'm not shedding the cloak of anonymity. It's a pseudonym.) I was worried I'd be discovered for a fraud beforehand. I couldn't believe that despite usually teetering around in heels, on the one day I meet the President of Israel(well I didn't actually meet him, but let's not get nitty gritty here) I'm wearing sneakers and looking a mess. Guess that's life. And I did enjoy the Invitation Only press conference and opening ceremony. What do single girls like ? Or more precisely, what do Frum single girls who are in Shidduchim like? And what do

Do you ever feel like you're living in a surreal Kafkaesque universe, too weird to be true? Do you ever wonder when the shutters will open, and sense will seep back into the world? If you open up your eyes will it be over? Can you go to sleep and wake up from this dream? You cry, from the sheer frustration; the absurdity overwhelms you, you look around frantically for the clarity that once was. How did you get here, what step along the way brought you to this society of madness? Why don't they see it too; why do they let this happen; where is this leading to? I've been on dates with men. I've been on dates with women . I've never been on a double date before. A double date which is also a first date. A double date where both our moms get to tag along with us, and join in all the fun. I'm confused as to the coupling. Do I pair up with him, while his mom pairs up with mine? Do we trade, me dating his mom and vice versa? "Fine. Wednesday. 9 PM. At the c

We ask about hats, and colors of Kippahs. We ask which stream of society he belongs too. "Which Yeshivas did he go to?" "What do his parents do?" "What do his siblings do?" "Where do they live?" "How many years does he want to learn for?" That's how we match up couples. Surprisingly, despite two people being perfect for each other on paper, despite them both agreeing that the husband should be in Kollel for exactly 5.5 years, until the birth of their third child; despite them both having brothers who learn in the Mir, and sisters who are working in special Ed; despite all of that, they meet and don't click . The infamous click. The adults around them tear their hair out in frustration. "What do you mean you don't like him?!" "He's a very good boy, what's there not to like?" The dater is ashamed. Indeed the boy is wonderfully suitable for her. She too will only eat Rubin and Eidah Cha