Matchmaker, Matchmaker Make Me a Match

…Find me a find, catch me a catch.  Night after night in the dark I’m alone, so find me a catch of my own…”


I give up!  I’m tired of looking for my future husband.  And quite frankly, I don’t think I’m qualified for the job. 


I’m a nice Catholic girl, but I’m seriously considering ripping a page from the Jewish handbook.


In strictly Orthodox Jewish circles, dating is limited to the search for a marriage partner. Both sides make inquiries about the prospective partner:  his/her character, intelligence, level of education, finances, family and health status, appearance and level of religious observance. In these communities matchmaking is considered a “mitzvah,” or a good deed.


Surely, there is someone out there who would like to do me a good deed.


But without a yenta of one’s own, how should you go about finding the perfect match? 


I don’t think going out to dinner, and movies, and getting together for coffee is going to help me find a husband.  All I’ve learned is that he likes his steak rare, he’s a good tipper, he’ll suffer through a chick-flick to make me happy, and that he takes way too much cream in his coffee!  (Dunkin’ Donuts, never Starbucks!)


I need to know if he leaves his socks on the floor. If his bank account has an adequate number of zeros.  If he’s gonna take care of me when my health starts to fail.


I’ve never learned the answer to even one of these questions while on a date!


On top of all that, the things that are important to me change as I get older.  In my late ‘20s and early ‘30s, I wanted someone attractive, someone who would get along with my friends, someone who was up and coming in their career.


Today, I want someone to grow old with, someone who shares my interests.  Someone who’ll do a crossword puzzle with me in bed, take me to the theatre, and enjoys traveling.  I want someone who likes the same TV shows I do. (There’s nothing worse than a man who watches wrestling!)


But how do you find the perfect match when you’re still evolving yourself?  Sometimes what’s important to me on Monday has no significance at all by the time the weekend rolls around.  How am I supposed to know if the person I find so wonderful today, will still trip my trigger 20…30…40 years from now?


Is there even such thing as a perfect match?


Maybe like Fiddler’s Tzeitel, I should beware.  As she says, “playing with matches a girl can get burned.”


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