Shidduch Crisis

I

never get involved in shidduchim.

I can handle a beis din, a prison cell, a classroom, a drug den. That stuff doesn’t scare me anymore. But I draw the line at shidduchim. Too many moving pieces, too many people with their many opinions. Too much immaturity and ego. Way too much lying. It’s like being involved in a fender bender — even if no one gets hurt, it’s still not a good day. So I never get involved in shidduchim.

One day I was in a coffee shop in New York with my nine-year-old son. As we took our drinks to the table, a woman approached us, smiled at my son, and then gave me this look, like I was in trouble.

“I’m hoping you can help me,” she started.

“Oh, I don’t work here,” I said, “but that guy over there….”