The Shidduch Question I Dread Most

By Esther

It was towards the end of Yom Tov, and I was tired but happy from helping out at the Chabad House in the town I was visiting with a friend.

We sat around shmoozing comfortably with the remaining community members who had stuck around this long. The Shlucha’s mother then came over looking excited and asked to speak with me privately for a moment.

She warmly commented on my middos, tznius and vibrancy. She asked me my last name and where my parents lived.

“And tell me,” she added, beaming, “How old are you?”

I told her my age and that’s where the story ends.

That’s where her face dropped and her excitement leaked away, surprise and disappointment taking its place.

“Oh, I thought you were much younger… I never would have guessed… you look so young!”

Thank you?

There was, of course, no shidduch suggestion following.

I’ve never been one to lie about my age or feel shame about having had the privilege of growing older. On the contrary – I understand and appreciate so much more about life and the world around me at 33 than I ever could have at 23. The challenges, joys, and tragedies I’ve experienced have shaped me into the person I am, and if I had the choice to turn back the clock I would very adamantly decline.

But the sinking feeling as soon as I hear those words -“How old are you?”- has been growing stronger each time it’s asked. Because I know the reactions that will follow my answer – startled, taken aback, disbelieving, apologetic. In almost all cases, a hasty withdrawal of the “great shidduch suggestion” that had been on the tip of their tongue moments before.

“How old are you?” – The mother sitting next to me at a wedding awkwardly stopped chatting with me after asking that, and instead struck up a conversation with her other seatmate.

“How old are you?” – The bochur across the Shabbos table looked shocked after overhearing my answer, and his flow of stories and anecdotes in my direction dried up.

“How old are you?” – The shadchan I met at a friend’s l’chaim lost her enthusiasm after getting that answer, said she “couldn’t really think of anyone right now…”

A rabbi told me to lie about my age. I couldn’t stomach the thought.

A friend told me to take my age off my shidduch resume. I argued that wouldn’t its absence just draw more attention to it?

“You’re not even getting a chance,” she told me. “Guys see your age straight away and dump the resume in the trash without ever looking further.”

With that, I couldn’t argue.

Look, I get that age gaps where the girl is more than a year older aren’t the norm. And I understand that for many bochurim there’s a deep-rooted desire to marry someone younger than themselves (just as many girls have a natural desire to marry older.)

But let’s be honest for a moment, could a relationship of trust, love, and respect with someone older not work? If you are compatible in maturity and other areas, does the date of birth on the driver’s license really relevant?

If a single bochur isn’t 100% sure it won’t work, it is time to stop auto-rejecting any suggestion that comes your way where the girl is older than you.

It is time to open up to the possibilities that life holds, that may be different from what you expected but might be so much better than you could have imagined.

If you meet someone that you find vivacious and interesting and attractive, why not give it a chance regardless of her birthdate?

She might be the love of your life.