Woven into the right side of Renata’s curly hair are white strands stripped of color. She has vitiligo, but it didn’t reveal itself until she was under some stress about four years ago. I love how it looks.
Barbara, 36, grew up in Boca Raton — interestingly, in one of the only areas of Boca with very few Jews. “We were one of 10 Jewish kids in my elementary school. We were on the countryside of Boca — the west-west-westside.
Ruth is an attractive, petite woman who’s spent her life working in publishing. She’s from the East Coast and went to college in Syracuse, graduating with a major in advertising and a minor in painting. She worked in New York as an art director for Modern Bride magazine, but moved out to Los Angeles for her then-husband, who was from here.
David, 27, seems to be brimming with confidence. He’s got a good, deep voice, and he’s still when he speaks. I fidget. My fingers or toes are generally wiggling, and I shift my position constantly. It suddenly dawns on me — I’m jealous. Why can’t I be as sure of myself?
Francesca, a British woman I’m pegging to be in her 40s, shows up wearing gloves. She seems flustered. She’s holding a notepad full of notes and a Broadway-style hat. She tells me she just reviewed a “Frank Sinatra show” and was inspired to wear a hat.
Dedicated to the life and memory of journalist Daniel Pearl, this October music month features concerts across the globe, including today’s performance of “Songs of Salomone Rossi: Harmony for Humanity” by Tesserae at Contrapuntal Recital Hall in Brentwood. Other concerts include Ray Dewey (Oct. 16);
Brandon’s an only child. He tells me he’s the kind of kid who kept to himself. “I didn’t break out of my shell until late in high school. I’m still kind of introverted, but an outgoing introvert, if that makes sense.”
I generally don’t meet people at their offices. I feel it’s best to get to know them in a neutral place, like a coffee shop. But Mike told me he worked in porn, and the deviant in me was intrigued. Suffice it to say, his office might as well have sold paper supplies, it was that generic.
Israelis are known for their gregarious behavior and love nothing more than spending time with their group of close friends. It’s a trait that is wreaking havoc among the quickly mushrooming singles population and threatens to have long-range anthropological effects on Israel’s future society.
Karen got divorced a year and a half ago. “I think at first it was hard to come to terms with — ‘I’m divorced.’ It had a kind of negative connotation, but now I look at it like I’m an experienced person. I know exactly what I want. I know exactly what I don’t want. And I’m kind of enjoying it — having my own time. But I have my moments where I wish I did have somebody to share that time with.”
A close friend e-mailed me that he thought Rachel would be good for My Single Peeps. “I think you guys will hit it off well, as you have a lot in common — a dead dad, childhood ADD, you both write and act, and you’re ‘good people.’ ”
Benson was born in Canada. “I call it Poland, because the winters are so bad.” He asks me about myself, and when I answer, he lifts his hands in the air and waves his fingers at me. He’s sending me “blessings,” he says. He has this spiritual/guru kind of bent to everything he says, and it’s not my kind of thing but I’m sure some girl reading this will be all over him like soybeans on tempeh. He’s got the charisma of a preacher, and as much as I blush around people who sincerely use the word “chakra,” I find Benson interesting to talk to.
In the March 19 episode of SOAPnet’s time-travel fantasy, “Being Erica,” 30-something Erica Strange (Erin Karpluk) is zapped back to the day of her bat mitzvah, shocked to find her grownup brain inside her 13-year-old body as she recites her haftarah portion, which she barely remembers.
Status used to be about social hierarchy -- whether you made a good living or were born into the right family or had achieved prominence in your community. But these days, if you say the word "status" to Generation Single-and-Facebooking, you may be understood very differently
Parshat Acharey Mot (Leviticus 16:1-18:30)
From now on, I'll only go on dates in pajamas.
As usual, it started out with questions.
"Where do you work? What do you do? Have you been on any trips lately?"
I was all for talking about myself, what I do, where I've been, where I'm going. But then it got personal.
I know how to handle men, but their mothers? An entirely different challenge. Until I moved to Los Angeles, I had never been "hit on" by women. Now women twice, thrice, even four times my age (I call them mothers-on-the-prowl) approach me nearly every Shabbat. Sometimes, they attack in the middle of the Amidah.
Do I have a sign on my forehead that says, "Fix me up"?
But they can't give me credit -- only God can. It says if you make three successful shidduchim, three matches, you automatically go to heaven. And this High Holy Day season I was thinking that I'd really like an automatic pass. ("Go directly to heaven. Do not pass hell; do not collect $200.) Three should be easy enough. I meet so many guys who just because they aren't for me doesn't mean they wouldn't be good for someone. What if this is my purpose in life? What if the point of my meeting so many people is to serve as what Malcolm Gladwell, in his book, "The Tipping Point," calls "The connector?" I feel heady with possibilities.
I had been on more than 200 first dates in Los Angeles.
I'd learned exactly what I was not looking for.
The practitioner of Chinese medicine decided that maybe she needed a little education in the field of dating. This led her to Tel Aviv's Date School, the only psychotherapy-based dating program in Israel -- and perhaps the world -- which literally teaches people how to be more effective, self-aware and informed daters.
Kenny Ellis sings his hit single from his 'Hanukkah Swings!' album on Favored Nations Records.
Could it be that my looks only complement my true best feature -- my crazy charm?
If you're a single 24-year-old gal looking to meet a preferably Jewish single guy in Los Angeles, you'd think a good pick-up line might include the words "I work for The Jewish Journal." After all, what better way to convey to the guy-of-interest that you're a fellow MOT? But you'd be wrong.
In the life of every single girl, there comes a point where she has to look herself in the mirror and ask one very important question: "Do I look fat?" No, just kidding. That one we ask every day. The other miasma hanging over our heads like impending gray hair is this question: "Am I too picky?"
According to some once-doting men, I'm terrific. I'm also beautiful, talented, smart, sassy, funny, dynamic, cute and sweet. To make matters worse, I'd make a fantastic mother. And the final blow? Apparently ... I'm a catch. I listen intently to my lover-gone-evil dumper's compliments -- and cringe. Somehow my fairy tale has gone awry.
Last year, the Pew Internet and American Life Project estimated that 8 million American adults had created blogs. Although the number of specifically Jewish blogs is unconfirmed, those with knowledge of the blogosphere say the pool is substantial. Jewish blogs, or Web diaries, run the gamut from kosher cooking to Israeli advocacy. They include leftist rants, dating melodramas, rabbinic ruminations and secular musings from all corners of the globe.
A few weeks ago, I had just returned from a trip to New York to meet someone my rabbi tried to set me up with -- a member of his
former congregation there. On my first Friday night back in shul, I was confronted by close married friends of mine with the question.
I knew that the normal adjustments from bachelorhood were inevitable, such as putting down the toilet seat and washing linens more frequently than every six months. But I never imagined that marriage would force me to re-experience the entire immigration process.
A feeling of trepidation takes hold of my heart. The Jewish holidays are upon us again, and as a 30-something single in a family of all married siblings, I'm feeling anxiety and pain.
The term "boyfriend" is like the knee joint on someone who is morbidly obese. It is being asked to do way more than it was designed to do. It is buckling under the pressure. Where it once could do the job, it is now carrying too much weight
I wish I lived 200 years ago so I could woo a woman the way single men did back then.
My friend has a red velveteen frog that lives on the arm of her red velvet sofa. Her living room has become the gathering place for our little group, five of us, all single.
Letters to the Editor.
When I got engaged, my mom's dearest girlfriends, whom I affectionately call "The Crones," all sent me a card. On the front it said,
"Now that you are engaged, no one will ever ask you again 'When are you getting married?'" On the inside it read, "So, when are you going to have a baby?" Although meant in jest, I have found that card to be profoundly true.
On the day preceding the first night of Chanukah, I was too tired to make yet another trip to the grocery store for latke fixings, so we had warm bowls of soup, lit the Chanukah candles, and without much fanfare, my daughter opened her first present. But on the second day, I re-entered my kitchen and found one box of instant latke mix and a refrigerator drawer full of apples.
Like many single Jews, Sharona Saghian met her husband on JDate, the Internet dating service aimed at Jewish singles. Although by doing so, the 28-year-old broke her community's old, venerated matchmaking traditions.
Saghian is Persian and in her community most parents prefer to know the background of their child's prospective mate when dating begins.
Marital advice from the under 11's.
I'm no longer a virgin. To Israel, that is. This single babe just returned from her maiden voyage to the land of milk and honey. And all I can say is -- there were a lot of honeys. Jewish men everywhere.
In the restaurants, on the streets, in the shops -- I didn't know where to flirt first. Forget a kid in a candy store, I was like a Jew in a bagel store. I'll take a dozen -- hot ones if you have them. Israel is a single Jewish girl's fantasy.
You date. You go to dinners. The beach. A friend's showcase. You retell your charming story until you hate every polished detail.