Frum N' Flipping

I try not to be a typical newlywed. In fact, I never really liked newlyweds, caught up in their own little blissful worlds. One common newlywed trait is matchmaking. And for newlywed bloggers- the complaining that goes with it. Suddenly singles are "pushy" and "picky" and "ungrateful" I swore never to switch roles quite so drastically, and I hope I'll stand by my word. But yes, I am guilty of being a newlywed; of the type eager to make matches. And some things really do get me upset. True fact - We don't know who we are going to marry until we marry them. I have lots of different types of friends; some are loud, some are quiet, some are shark and some more easy going; basically every friend is different. And that's normal. Most of us have more than one friend, and usually our friends are not identical. In other words, we get on with all sorts of people. So why, when it comes to dating, is there a perception that a girl can only da...

Would you go on a date feeling sick? I don't mean sick at the sight of him, which isn't a good sign for future marital happiness, rather sick due to ghastly diseases like the common cold, and the flu. The thing with dating is, there's no one to provide a sick leave note. The Shadchan is never happy, being asked to make another batch of piggy-in-the-middle phone calls, delaying the auspicious meeting to a latter occasion, to a time when you're hoping you won't feel like a clan of elephants are playing hockey in your head. You feel sorry for the guy, too. Maybe the poor thing has already showered, and shaved, and now his efforts are going down the drain. He's going to have to make do with the 'company of sweaty guys' - as one boy described his roommates to me-instead of cavorting with a charming Shidduch Maidel. The fears lurk, unspoken. What if he thinks I'm generally sickly? Not up to being a future baby machine? What if he doesn't believe it...

You think it is, I think it is, but aren't you curious what the Rabbis of Israel have to say about it? We are sitting on the sloping hill, alone aside for the trees and the moon. I've convinced The-Yeshiva-Guy-I-Didn't-Marry to sit down on the grass with me, instead of on the customary bench. It's a new sensation, sitting on the grass with a boy. I cross my knees, pull my skirt down to cover them. He sprawls out on his side, a few inches from me. This is so much more relaxed than benches and chairs. It's the first time I've ever done it, on a date. A part of me whispers that that's a rather sad fact. "Are you attracted to me?" I ask. There's a certain light missing from his eyes, when he looks at me. He doesn't look at me the way the boy before him did. I'm worried. I don't know what they've been telling them in Yeshiva, about feelings coming later, and all that. I know one thing, I don't want that to be the case with my hu...

Remind me never to listen to a cab driver again. Telling me I'm better of walking. Huh! I mean, I'm sure he meant well, but I'm freezing. This may be my favorite coat, but it's not very warm. Everywhere seems so much further in heels. I hope I won't be too tall in them. Why do all the men in the street have to be Arab? Aren’t there any Jews in Jerusalem? And why do they think I'll understand what they are saying to me in Arabic? I hope I'm not being stupid, walking here alone. Was that a whistle? Oh good the guard is waving me through. He's not making me open my bag. Lucky, I don't know how I'd get it closed again, if he did. It's not easy fitting a science book into an evening purse. I suppose I don't look very suspicious. Maybe he recognizes me from the last time I was here. It was only a week ago, after all. I'm a regular, you could say. Please, please, that can't be him. No. God, listen to this prayer at least, don't let...

"The surest way to tell the prostitute walking into a hotel is to look for the lady in the designer suit. Fact." From Belle Du Jour. Diary of a London Call girl. Now where does that leave us Shidduch Maidels? Better stick to the Marriott, girls, and not venture into the Ritz-Calrton, at least not in your best black suit. Don't want to give some gentlemen the wrong impression.

I'm halfway through my weekly attempt to murder my driving instructor, when I ask to book a lesson on the eve of Rosh Hashana .(I decided the kitchen will survive without me for an hour, seeing what a lousy housewife I am anyway) "So we're on for next Friday?" "Oh, sorry. I'm going to Uman." "You're going to Uman?!" I'm sure he's kidding. He's not Breslov, not Chasidic, not even Chareidi. This is the perennial joker, who sarcasm I never get. On second thought, maybe he's serious. It makes sense. He needs to pray for survival. It's a miracle I haven't yet killed him and me both (several near misses with lampposts, buses and helpless puppies) and I've paid him ahead for the next batch of lessons, so he can't back out. "I'm really going. Want me to Daven for you?" He pulls out a list, hands me a pen. "Add your name" I look at the list of names, written in traditional plonit-bat-almonit s...

Since time immemorial, an ancient mating ritual has been practiced, amongst the ultra orthodox sect of judaism, in the holy land of Israel. All details are sacrosanct. Our top investigative reporter reports back to us, below. Time: 8 PM on the first day of summer Bein Hazmanim. Place: The Inbal hotel lobby, Jerusalem. A row of white cabs pull up in the traffic circle. One by one, out step the girls. Each girl is fully made up and in her finest, each is clutching a purse, and each is wished good luck, with a wink, by her respective cab driver. The guard, standing at a wooden booth beside the potted palm trees, inspects their bags. Again they are told good luck, this time with a grin. One by one they push though the revolving door, into the heart of the Israeli shidduch scene. Inside stand the young men. They wear black hats, and suits. They can be distinguished by their ties. Beards are optional. They stand, by the reception desk and the souvenier display cases. The chairs are taken by...

Career girl and Shidduch Maidel- two diametric opposites. After a day at the office, getting dressed up for a date isn't enough. A major personality switch is needed too. I lock the screen, pull off my ID card, breathe in, breathe out, and shift gears. Body language, tone of voice, that changes automatically. Next comes the attitude. Work: Get across that you’re wrong, and I'm right, without actually saying so. It should be obvious that my idea is the one we should use, how could you ever suggest otherwise. Date: Give the impression I think you're amazing and brilliant. I totally agree with everything you say. In fact you're what I've been looking for my whole life. Work: Be assertive, without raising my voice. Sound firm and uncompromising. Date: Be soft, pliant and feminine. Flutter eyelashes occasionally. I don't know how I ever managed without you, opening doors is just so hard on my own. Work: Sell myself. Do nothing without proper recognition and ...

Take nice sweet aidel innocent Chareidi girls, put them on facebook, and what do you get? D-A-N-G-E-R Not because they hook up with guys, not because their photos are up there for the whole world to see. They simply have no sense of what-not-to-post-in-public. On my B-Day, my wall gets filled up with posts wishing me "Find a Chassan soon!", "Meet your Besherte this year!" I mean, have you ever? No pressure or anything.. As it is my less chareidi friends think my society is insane, this will only confirm it. What next, shidduch suggestions on my wall? Oh yeah, and I've even been asked to join a Sheitel Macher fan club.

"His Mom wants to see your picture". "No way. Sorry, I don't do pictures" "She says she won't show him, it's only for her to see." "She can ask everyone what I look like; height, weight, hair color, eye color, length of nose, promince of cheekbones, whatever she wants. " "No, that's not good enough. She says her son wants to date a clever girl, and most clever girls are ugly. So she needs to check." Have you ever?! Intelligent Women of the World, let us unite.

19th Century- Yente the Shadchan. 20th Century-The Resume. For the 21st century- The Shidduch DVD! More graphic, more interactive, more in depth coverage. Wait, should I be telling you this before I've patented it? OK, I confess, I've never actually written a shidduch resume. (The first time I heard of them, I was sure it was a joke.) I did write out an email with all my "info", a couple of weeks ago. A woman at work wanted "details". Plus the required phone numbers of friends, family friends, and rabbis. So I wrote it all out, and pressed send. A few days later, someone else at work wanted the same "info". "No problem!", I said. This time all I needed to do was press forward. So here I am, pressing forward every couple of days, and thinking I've got the "finding out" stage covered. Then it struck me. Text documents are so out of date. I mean, how much can words in black and white convey? What every girl in Shidduchim nee...

The night before: I pick what I'm going to wear (I'll spare you the shopping sagas). I empty out an entire drawer of tights, and eventually find a pair with no ladders or holes in the toes. I do my hair, nails, eyebrows, legs. I pack makeup, find a lipstick between some magazines, and shove that into my bag too. The morning of: I scramle out of bed, and sit for a long long time on a stuffy bus, trying to daven against a background of Mizrachi music and R&B. The day of: Slaving a way in front of a computer all day, monotony only broken by meetings and lectures. In between emails, call hairdresser. The evening of: Cancel a meeting with my boss, grab bulky bag, and hail a taxi. Arrive at hairdresser, wash hair in her sink (We're low tech in Israel), then have a soul-to-soul on what was wrong with the last guy, while she does her stuff. Hail a second taxi. In random location (friend's pad/changing rooms in mall/hotel bathroom) wriggle out of the long skirt...

Funniest: Wandering around a graveyard, thinking it's a park. Took ages for us to realise where we really were. Made me feel Guiltiest: Being sent love letters by a guy I dumped. Most Clicheish: hard to say, I've done them all. Coca cola in the Sheraton Plaza Lobby along with every other hotel in Jerusalem, Moonlight walk in Yemin Moshe, Cafe Hillel in Emek Refaim, Cafe Rimon in Mamilla, Tayelet in Yaffo. If there's something I missed, let me know, I'm sure I've been-there-and-done-that too. Most Annoying: Having a guy arrive an hour late vies with the not being taken even to a bus stop. Davka the one time I hadn't brought a lot of spare cash. And they were both Brits! Why do people think the British have manners? Weirdest: Seing a guy I'd just broken up with, after a rather intense relationship,also on a date, and not being able to say anything to him. Funnest: Still waiting. Never had a truly fun date, the fun stuf I do with the non fun guys, so it d...

Some guy asked me that, one moonlight night, when I thought he was about to propose. Anyway, you, dear reader, didn't ask me this romantically, under the stars, but here's the answer all the same. Aside from G-d, and his plans (yes, I'm sure he features heavily in the equation, I am religious after all) and aside from me being kind of picky (no, shadchanim, I didn't really admit that, this blog is ANONYMOUS), I'd account a lot of it to falling between two worlds. We, chareidi children of Olim, are neither here nor there. We can choose to be Israeli, but that means giving up so much. Thinking for ourselves, for a start. Accepting others, educating ourselves and our children, and so much more than that. I don't want to tar and feather all of Israeli chareidi society, but yes, that's what it would be to me, if I married one of the Israeli boys I've dated. And Americans? Making aliyah was a struggle, learning the language, figuring out how to make it here. A...