Shidduch Crisis

My daughter is about to go on her eighth date with a young man I don’t feel great about. He’s a good boy from a good family, which is why we agreed to the shidduch. As her first boy, I thought he’d provide some “experience” for my daughter. I never thought he was going to be “the one.” However, things played out differently, and they really got along.

But as my daughter tells me more and more about their conversations, I’m beginning to have concerns. To begin with, he’s really different from her, and I’m not convinced she can see how the differences might play out. For example, he’s very ambitious materially, and she isn’t at all. Also, he has a very strong personality — he’s extroverted, loud, and overconfident for a boy his age. She’s a sweet, quiet girl with a few close friends — a typical introvert. Finally, I’m not so sure about his ethics based on a comment he made. Our family prides itself on being straight and honest.

Anyway, no matter what I say, my daughter tells me that she really likes this boy, that they “click,” and that she wants to move forward. Apparently, he feels the same way. My husband thinks I’m overreacting and there’s nothing to worry about. I’m having a lot of trouble with this because I’m really afraid that she’s going to be unhappy. I’m older and more experienced than my daughter, and let’s face it, husbands aren’t usually the relationship experts in the family. If I can see danger ahead, shouldn’t I do everything possible to stop the train wreck? Should I just shut my mouth in order to avoid temporary upset or should I step in and save my daughter by nixing the shidduch?

The question I have is: Are you trying to save your daughter or are you trying to save yourself? Parenting is, after all, a very emotionally challenging profession. Parents desperately want to see their children living successful and happy lives, and they suffer deep pain when their children are struggling. You’re already suffering anticipatory agony as you foresee the pain that you’re sure your daughter will experience if she moves forward with this shidduch.

You can end the pain you’re now in by ending the shidduch — but this is your pain. Your daughter, as you note above, isn’t in pain. In fact, she seems perfectly happy. This is why I’m questioning who you’re trying to save.

Here’s an unfortunate fact: You actually can’t prevent your child’s unhappiness nor can you ensure her happiness! In fact, there’s not much we can do about the happiness of other people at all, whether it be the happiness of our spouse, our adult child, our friend, or anyone else. This is because happiness is an extremely personal project. Hashem has granted each person the power, freedom, and responsibility for achieving his or her own serenity no matter what external circumstances Hashem creates. As part of this power, freedom, and responsibility, Hashem allows each person to choose their marriage partner.

Over the course of my career, I’ve met a number of adults who were “protected” by their parents from making the error of selecting the wrong spouse; the parents ended the child’s shidduch. In all of these cases, these bitter young men and women blamed their parents for robbing them of the opportunity for happiness. Either they never married after their parents forbade the union they were pursuing, or they married “the wrong person.” Either way, they claim that their suffering was their parents’ fault. Instead of having the opportunity to struggle through the marriage of their choice, they were robbed both of the struggle and of their choice. This made “blamers” of them all. Even the parents sometimes blamed themselves.