Frum N' Flipping

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"?

"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. ...

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...

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...

"No. Stop. Break!" Tires shriek as we grind to a halt. "You almost ran over that puppy!" "Oops. Sorry. I didn't notice…" I resume driving. My new teacher leans back in her seat, trying to relax despite putting her life in my hands. "Can I ask you something?" she says, as I circle yet another traffic circle. "Go ahead" I reply, my eyes firmly on the road, looking out for more stray dogs. "Do you do that Shidduch business?" "Yup. I go on Shidduch dates." I have no problem admitting it. Seeing as how it's a subject that fills most of my waking hours nowadays. (I'm still trying to remember what I used to talk about with friends, before we started dating.) "Have you, like, actually met a boy yet?" "Oh sure." I say. "I've met quite a lot of boys." "Ah." she looks suprised. "Does that mean you don't have to marry them?" I laugh. "A shidduch isn...

You can fool some of the people all of the time, and you can fool all of the people some of the time, but try fooling all of your neighbors, all of the time. Let's say I decided my Perfect-Shidduch-Image could use some damage control. An open letter to my neighbors: Following what has come to my ears of the Vaad Habayit meeting on October 25th, I would like to clarify a few points: 1. I do possess more than one set of clothing. I'll be happy to provide receipts, from weekly mall forays, or give you a guided tour of my closet. I am aware of the fact that, whenever I open the door to you, I'm attired in the same faded jeans skirt, and stretched stripy T-Shirt, both of which have seen better days (think 9th grade). This is due to the fact that on the rare occasions I'm home for the day, and as such available for opening the door, I make full use of the "Yay! I'm not going anywhere! No-one (but the neigbours) is going to see me!" opportunity to crash in ...

The guys I date get names. Names I use with my friends, and my family. Names they don't know about. I can never remember their real names, the Avrahams and Dovids, the Levys and Rosenbergs. I don't even try. Instead they become "the poet", "the love letter guy", "the creepy one", and so on. Sometimes they get automatic and simple names, based on the places they study- "the Hebrew U." guy, "The Machon Lev" guy, the [insert name of yeshiva here] guy. This guy became the "Photo guy". I didn't go out with him. Instead I heard about him, heard at length of his merits and vital statistics and why he was a perfect match for me. His neighbors told me, his friends in yeshiva told me, and my friends from Seminary told me. They all thought we should go out. It was a match made in heaven. One person however, disagreed. The boy himself. He'd seen my photo, you see. I was surprised by his reaction. Granted, no one would ca...

"Hold on a sec. He's a twin?! And he's from ____? I think I went out with his twin brother then." "You think?! Sweetie, you don't know who you went out with?" "Hmmm. I did hear the name, don't remember if we ever went out. So, is he like the brother?" "Yes, totally. Except the first one is married now of course." "Oh." "You didn't like the brother?" "Well he dumped me after one date. But I wasn't that keen either. I don't really want to go out with his twin. If it's the same guy." "Maybe you should decide if you two went out or not." "Well I did go out with some twin from there. How many twins can there be in that little town? And then someone tried to set me up with the other one when it didn't work out with the first." "So you've been out with this one too?" "No. Didn't want to date twins. Made me feel like something out of 'Pass the...

"I'm not wearing my best dress. Because I'm saving my best dress for your wedding" Says my 6 year old niece. Sweet. "You're so silly", her cousin says to her. "It will be too small for you by the time she's married, for sure!" WTH? It the forecast so dismal? "No. How can you say that? She can have a Shidduch tommorow, and bingo be married!" Pipes up another little voice at the Shabbos table. Thanks for the faith, darling.

I feel sorry for my husband. Not because the first time he'll see me wearing glasses, with no makeup, it will probably be too late. Not because I'm capable of getting lost in my own neighborhood, and anyone relying on my map reading skills is sure to get led astray. Not even because I'm a secret blogger, and as one commenter put it "won't your husband mind you sharing personal details of your life". (More on the blogging when married topic another time). No, all that he'll be aware of on dates. I began to feel sorry for my future husband, really and truly sympathetic, when I cleaned out the family refrigerator on Erev Shabbos. I filled a garbage bag with rotting vegetables and decaying dairy products. I scooped out chunks of solidified pasta, prepared for dinners long gone, and piled high in the sink their former containers. I used up an entire roll of paper towel, scrubbing weeks of acquired gunk off the shelves. I wouldn't have done it, I wo...

I've dated many men, in the last few years. They have some things in common. For a start, they are all single. Also, they are all in their twenties. I also go out with women. Mainly married women. Their ages range through the twenties to sixties. Don't be shocked. Hang on, and I'll explain. I'm in town, meeting up with a pal, one of the rare occasions she's in the hood. I get a phone call. It's my friend's mom, who since her own daughter recently acquired a new last name, has sweetly joined the ranks of those attempting to marry me off. "Someone wants to meet you. She has a guy." "Right. But I don't meet women. Who is he?" 'She won't tell me anything. She wants to meet you first." I entreat and I protest, but eventually I give in. The meeting is set up for the following night. Wednesday evening I get home from work. I choose an outfit which I hope the mystery woman will like or at least approve of, touch up...

A new reason not to date me: My father is dead. It seems chareidi boys are looking for picture perfect families. Or is it that losing a parent is something put together girls simply don’t do (the same way they would never be caught without makeup) so it makes me a nebach type? I've got it, maybe it shows I'm not frum enough? Yeah that must be it. If I was really frum, and I davened, obviously God would have listened to me and left him alive. You'd think, with all the in-law jokes circling, and after all the M.Amitz horror stories in Mishpacha magazine, people would be glad to have one less parent-in-law. Seems not. Basically- if you're in shidduchim, ask your relatives to kindly refrain from dying until you're safely married off. Ps. The ironic thing is (not that I advocate killing off all parents), losing someone definitely makes you more mature, thoughtful, wiser, and well- better. At least in my books.

I'm tired of sticking my hair under the shower head, rinsing off the shampoo, pulling through a comb, stepping outside, and having to prove to the world that, no, I'm not wearing a wig, and yes, it's my own hair. If it looks good- it's obviously a top of the range wig. If you're having a bad hair day- it must be you're wearing last year's wig, which got singed while you were slaving over the kitchen stove. Whatever I do to my hair, whatever look I pick- long, short, straight, curly - people keep on assuming it’s a wig! I thought of going for the green hair with spikes look, but I doubt that would help. Don't Purim wigs look something like that? "What’s your maiden name?" Asks the random lady I've just met and am making small talk with, in the hopes she'll set me up with the love of my life. "Do you have kids?" asks the old classmate I bump into in town. I guess if 90% of the Charedi female population over 19 is wandering arou...

Moonlight. Park. Bench. Third Date. "So, do you have a Rav? Like, someone to ask?" (OK, that's the guy asking. Not my style question.) "Um, well. I ask Y. when I have questions. He's got Semicha. He looks it up for me if he doesn't know." (Nothing like illustrious relatives. The whole learning in Kollel thing comes in useful sometimes.) "I mean real questions, you know, life questions. Not Halachic questions". "Oh." (Long silence.) "No, not really. I used to ask a couple of Rabbis stuff sometimes, in seminary. But I never get round to phoning them nowadays." If I like him I may bother trying to explain more. Usually I don't. I do feel faintly guilty about it. "Not having a Rav", that is. I had to memorize Mesilat Yesharim in High school. That whole paragraph with the Rabbi being up on a hill, able to guide lost and clueless lil' you through the maze of life. So Rabbis are the kind of thing one needs, ri...