Posts Tagged: Dating Results 19
When I moved to a new, Midwestern city to attend graduate school, I did what many young, single people do: I joined a dating website. After a few weeks, I began to notice that the men who messaged me tended to fit a certain type: bookish, serious, and strongly invested in being seen as intellectual and cultured. They wore glasses, liked foreign films and cooked vegetarian food. They were, in short, a lot like me.
“I know a great guy for you,” wasn’t what I had expected to hear the first time I met my language partner over coffee on a frigid winter day in Seoul. But it was something I got used to pretty quickly when I studied abroad in South Korea at 21.
Emily Shire has an essay up at the Daily Beast whose headline reads, “How Does A Single Jew Find a Nice Goy To Date?” A catchy headline for sure, but one whose answer is, in effect, ‘By leaving the house.’ Or not even, in the age of apps. Unlike early 19th century France, when Napoleon very much wanted Jews to marry out, but there was little reason to think non-Jews were prepared to invite Jews into their families, in 21st century America, it’s easier, all things equal, for a (secular) Jew to marry out than in.
In one of the most remarkable moments in Paula Schargodorosky’s documentary, “35 and Single,” the viewer sees director, producer, and writer Schargodorosky in profile, with a handwritten list beside her face that reads: “25% of me wants to get married, 27% wants to be free, 26% longs for a spiritual life, 22% wants children.”
The recent publication of “Date-onomics: How Dating Became a Lopsided Numbers Game” by Jon Birger and his accompanying piece in TIME has set off a flurry of discussion on demographics in dating. Josh Yuter’s response in the Sisterhood, for example, critically examined the so-called Shidduch crisis and found the argument wanting. I read his piece with great interest and mostly in agreement. I, as an individual, as a single person, am not a crisis. I do not believe my unmarried life to be a tragedy or a disaster — it is my life — my friends and my family, my home, my career, in fits and starts. We would do well indeed to start treating people as individuals and allow them to find their own happiness.