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been there, done that, even lived to tell about it... |
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| Why You Are Statistically Doomed (with apologies to any math teacher I've every had (rh)) How to Find Your Bashert by Martin Bodek. Does dating have you in a bog? Does dating have you in a quagmire? Does dating have you in a swamp? Does dating have you repeating sentences that mean the same thing? Well then, practice my new Bashert-finding method and your spirits will rise in no time! This fantastic new process is called the Process of Elimination! Now then, let the process begin!: There are 3,292,393,161,375,414,113 beings in this universe. 3,292,393,155,307,785,103 of those include G-d, angels, seraphim, aliens, creatures, cartoon characters, and imaginary friends. That leaves 6,067,692,010 available human earthlings you can date! See? We've eliminated 99.9999998157% of the playing field already! Finding your bashert should be a cinch! Little known fact: Jews currently represent 1/5 of 1% of the world's population. That leaves about 13,000,000 people you can pick from. Now then, of the 13,000,000 Jews available, I'm going to assume that 50% are not quite the gender you're looking for, that leaves 6,500,000. Wow! It's narrowing quickly! Plenty of Jews are currently dating, plenty of Jews are already married, plenty others aren't dating yet. So we can eliminate 2/3rds of what's available. That leaves about 2,166,666 people. Getting there, getting there. There are several categories of Judaic practice, in no particular order whatsoever, they are: Reform, Conservative, Orthodox, Yeshivish, Litvish, Chasidish, Black Hatters, Kipa Srugarians, and Young Israelites. That's 9 categories. There are more, but I'm too lazy to list them all. Since no one should be dating outside of their category - lest they suffer spite from community gossips - we can eliminate 8/9ths of what's left. That leaves 240,740 people. 4/5ths of what's left don't have the funds, transportation, or desire to date anyone not from their continent. Now we have 48,148 left over. 3/4ths of what's left are nowhere near your age. That leaves 12,037 people. 2/3rds of those are too lazy to date anyone located more than 50 miles away. That leaves 4,012 people. Half of those are waiting for love to find them, they can wait. That leaves 2,006 people. 6 Jews are too uh, frugal to pay the ridiculous tolls. Their loss. Of the 2,000 people left over, you will never hear of nor will anyone ever mention 3/4ths of them to you. 500 people are left over. Let's assume that 500 is the maximum amount you'll ever get "ret" to you in your entire lifetime. Of these 500, 50 will be too tall for you to ever go out with, 50 will be too short for you to ever go out with, 50 you won't go out with because some friend of theirs told them not to go out with you, 50 you won't go out with because some friend of YOURS told you not to go out with them, 40 are too Reform/Conservative/Orthodox/Yeshivish /Litvish/Chasidish/Black-Hatty/Kipa Srugy/Young Israelitey, 40 aren't Reform/Conservative/ Orthodox/Yeshivish/Litvish/Chasidish/BlackHatty/Kipa Srugy/Young Israelitey ENOUGH, and 10 simply give your mother a "bad vibe." Now let's assume that 200 people is the maximum that a person will ever date. Of these 200, 90 [orig. 9/10ths] [ed. apologies to author, my math is not that bad. 10/10 = all; had to modify that one!] will reject you, and you'll never know why, 10 [orig. 1/10th] will dump you with a pretty good reason. 100 left, we're almost there. Let's assume that with what's left over, YOU get to decide what to do. 10 are too dumb, 10 are too smart, 10 have an attitude, 10 you have hashkafa problems with, 10 you're not attracted to, 10 you have nothing in common with, 10 are too self-centered, 10 are selfish, 10 did weird stuff on your date that you didn't approve of. Only 10 left! Of the remaining 10, 5 you share no chemistry with, 1 is a fruitcake, 1 is nutty, 1 scares you for no particular reason, 1 should be locked up, and 1 belongs in Bellevue. That leaves your bashert, your soulmate, your lifepartner. He/she's just around the corner! Go get him/her! The Shadchan Queenie and Ethel work at the Post Office, at windows 7 and 6, respectively. Being Post Office employees, they are cordial and concerned, and know me already for a few years. They also have a lot of time on their hands. So what does a person who has time on her hands do? Make shidduchim, of course. (no brainer) One day, intending innocently to pick up my mail, I go to window 6. Today Queenie is working window 6 (now you know why no one's at the passport window when you're waiting to process yours). A conversation ensues. "Honey, wait right there a minute." To the vast Beyond in the Post Office backstage, "Eeeeeeeeeethel." "Yes, Queen." "What was the name of that guy who comes around we wuz sayin' might be good fo' huh?" "Uh, Lawrence" "Lawrence his first name or his last name?" "Uh, I dunno. I think it's his last name." "No, I think it's his first name." Now, as an afterthought, realizing it's to me that she has to redd this shidduch, "We wuz thinkin' of this guy for you." She smiles, proud of her matchmaking capabilities. Ethel bursts her bubble, "But you ain't even axed if she's involved!!!!!!" Queenie is mortified. "Sorry, are you involved?" Then, realizing that may not have been appropriate, "I mean, do you mind my axin' if you are involved?" I manage to mumble a "no" for honesty's sake. "Well, then, you really gotta check this guy out. He's in computers (--good parnassah?), he's smart - he wears glasses (--does the second imply the first?) and he's a nice height, pretty tall." She looks at me, like what more can a girl ask for in a guy? And I can't even ask, "Is he white? Is he Jewish?" Thankfully, Queenie's doing overtime on the talking. "Oh, but he's in his thirties. How old are you?" Realizing this is not a question to ask a woman, she hurries, "No, I'm sorry. Do you mind if I ax how old you are?" By now there's a Jewish man old enough to be my great uncle waiting in line behind me, and privy to every word of this exchange. But you can't ignore Ethel & Queenie, inc. Their collective weight alone is enough to sell shade for all the Yankees Fans in New York. I mumble again, "21." "Oh, so he's too old, he's in his thirties. That's too old for you, isn't it?" Grateful for an excuse, I nod, grab my mail, and run home. My mother is on the phone from the country. "I just wanted you to know that just because you're in the city, doesn't mean we're not thinking about you. Your brother just called with a name from Israel, and we're looking into it." "Name doesn't happen to be Lawrence, by any chance, does it?" I'm thinking. Aloud, I say, "Don't worry about me, Ma. I've got a friend at the Post Office who's looking out for me...." Liberated woman The doorbell rings and I open it, the kid in me hoping to find Prince Charming on the other side, the realist in me just praying for someone semi-normal. The guy seems nice enough and after the small talk with the family, we're on our way to his car when he suddenly makes an announcement. He forgot his wallet. I tell him that I have some small money on me and don't mind doing something that doesn't require money, like for instance walking. We decide to take the bridge to the city and do just that, but we both don't know how to get to it (the bridge). We wind up at the tunnel and I dig into my emergency pocket (sad but true, I had no pockets on my outfit, and it was no easy feat distracting him so that I could get to it) to pull out my money. I picture us walking in a park or next to water, but his idea of a walk obviously differs from mine. He parks in the first spot he can find and our "picturesque" walk features tattoo parlors and very strange-looking people, among other disturbing sights and sounds. Finally, tired and thirsty, I remember that I'm the one in charge of the purse strings. I spot a ritzy hotel and suggest stopping in for a drink. I don't think I'll ever forget the look on the face of the Maitre D when he handed the bill to the guy and I took it and paid for it... p.s. The whole date cost me $15, but I guess that's a fair price for an evening of entertainment.... Signs you've been on the scene for too long: 5 - Wherever the guy takes you, the waiters are on a first name basis with both of you 4 - You and your date discuss each of the main courses, their ingredients and what you both personally prefer at "My Most Favorite Dessert" 3 - The cashier asks which of you wants to put the bill on their tab 2 - You each bring with you your folders containing your applications for the position of spouse, which include hobbies, life goals, financial reports and sworn affirmations and testimonials by family and friends. 1 - You both have the same tissues on you; the ones with the Marriott logo printed on them |
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