It's time for another edition of the Insecure Writer's Support Group. Be sure to visit Alex J. Cavanaugh and the rest of the talented writers who are always willing to lend a helping hand.
Before Match.com - The Real Matchmakers
|June 28, 1987|
As our 30th anniversary is approaching, it seems only fitting to tell the story of how we met. It all began when my dear friend Lily called to tell me about an upcoming dating show on cable. She said that her client was a Jewish matchmaker who offered to fix her up. When she told her that she was engaged, she asked her if she knew of anyone who might be interested. She knew that I would enjoy being on a dating show, so I thanked her for thinking of me. A few minutes later, the matchmaker called me at work.
She started firing off personal questions, as I trembled in my cubicle. I finally cut her off when the subject of weight came up, though I would give anything to trade my 1986 stats right now. The next step was to set up a meeting in person, and afterward she would collect her generous fee. When I asked about the cable dating show, she said that she was still working on it. I told her to call me back when she had more information.
A few weeks later, I received another call at work. The matchmaker told me that she had several new clients who would love to meet me, and she "desperately" needed women in my age group. I was a tall, twenty-four-year-old Jewish blond, with good child bearing hips. What's not to like? I asked again about the dating show which was probably never going to happen in the first place. So there was no TV offer, and she admitted that she was "desperate." This was a true Seinfeld moment when I had "hand."
I offered to meet her if she sent me on a free trial date. The matchmaker said it was out of the question. Then I replied, "Since you told me that you were 'desperate,' I don't see why I should have to pay you." At the time I worked in the advertising department at a magazine, so she suggested I help her with advertising instead. Hence, we set up a meeting for the following week.
The matchmaker looked like Dr. Ruth, and was a compact powerhouse. Since many of her clients were older religious men from New York, she immediately started asking me questions about how observant I was. When she asked me if I ever ate bread during Passover, I answered her honestly.
She sternly replied, "Do you know what the bible said about what happened to people who ate bread on Passover? It said that they were stoned." Suddenly, I wasn't so excited about my trial date. Then she took my picture to share with her partner, and sent me on my way.
Her partner must have liked the terrified expression on my face, because I got a call a few days later. We went to a nice Chinese restaurant for dinner. He didn't laugh or try to sneak out when I started choking on the hot n sour soup. It turned out that he lived down the street from her younger partner who had been trying to fix him up for years. She bent the rules by showing him my picture, and he decided to call me. I fell in love with my trial date, and we were engaged six months later.
My friend Lily stood up in our wedding, and later ran into the matchmaker. She always came to see her during the clothing shows in search of sample sales. Though she had only met my husband briefly when she crashed our wedding she told my friend, "You know, he was much too good for her."
Note: This is a repost from 2012, shortly before our 25th anniversary