Staying single happily ever after?

Why does it seem that people think that the reason to marry is once you are married, "you live happily ever after"? Moreover, since, nowadays, they cannot see that happening; they are not interested and would rather stay “single happily ever after”?

It seems the commercial world, and/or parents protecting their children from society, have produced a real fantasy world. High and unreal expectations are a minimum and a must.

Everyone is "complaining"!! You read it in the Jewish newspapers, magazines, blogs and, you name it.

The fault and blame are being thrown on the system, the parents, the shadchunim, and even on the boys and girls themselves.

Some are saying the boys are on drugs, the girls are anorexic or fat, and therefore there is fear on both sides of the aisle. Other reasons include, the boys and girls are either too frum or the opposite. There are endless reasons.

What about the good old reason of bringing up a Jewish generation and being good fathers and mothers?

We have come to believe that we can now have both worlds. Personally, I think one can have that if they realize the true earthly world and they have no expectations. However, if we take this world and paint it truly false, of course, the divorce rate will keep going up.

So who is really losing?

To be six again

A man was sitting on the edge of the bed, observing his wife turning back and forth, looking at herself in the mirror.

Since her birthday was not far off he asked what she'd like to have for her birthday.

"I'd like to be six again." She replied, still looking in the mirror..

On the morning of her birthday, he arose early, made her a nice big bowl of Lucky Charms, and then took her to Six Flags theme park.

What a day! He put her on every ride in the park; the Death Slide, the Wall of Fear, the Screaming Monster Roller Coaster, everything there was to ride, she rode.

Five hours later they staggered out of the theme park.
Her head was reeling and her stomach was turned upside-down.

He then took her to a McDonald's where he ordered her a Happy Meal with extra fries and a chocolate shake.

Then it was off to a movie where she sipped a soda pop and munched happily on popcorn and her favorite candy, M&M's. What a fabulous adventure!

Finally she wobbled home with her husband and collapsed into bed exhausted. He leaned over his wife with a big smile and lovingly asked, "Well Dear, what was it like being six again??"

Her eyes slowly opened and her expression suddenly changed, as she said, "I meant my dress size, you dumb-***!"

The moral of the story:

Even when a man is listening, he is probably going to get it wrong.

Wine , Men and Women

Woman's quote:
"Men are like fine wine. They all start out like grapes, and it's our job to stomp on them and keep them in the dark until they mature into something which you'd like to have dinner with."

Men's counter quote:
"Women are like fine wine. They all start out fresh, fruity and intoxicating to the mind and then turn full-bodied with age until they go all sour and vinegary and give you a headache."

Men still don't get it?

Here is an old classic email story that I keep getting.


After just a few years of marriage, filled with constant arguments, a young man and his wife decided the only way to save their marriage was to try counseling. They had been at each other's throat for some time and felt that this was their last straw. When they arrived at the counselor's office, the counselor jumped right in and opened the floor for discussion.

"What seems to be the problem?" Immediately, the husband held his long face down without anything to say. On the other hand, the wife began talking 90 miles an hour describing all the wrongs within their marriage.

After 5 - - 10 - - 15 minutes of listening to the wife, the counselor went over to her, picked her up by her shoulders, kissed her passionately for several minutes, and sat her back down. Afterwards, the wife sat there speechless.

He looked over at the husband who was staring in disbelief at what had happened. The counselor spoke to the husband, "Your wife NEEDS that at least twice a week!"

The husband scratched his head and replied, "I can have her here on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

Who is the Boss in a marriage?

Another way the question is phrased and asked is, "who wears the pants?

Once upon a time, (and mostly still today,) men and/or women wore the pants. The "marriage" continued so until "death do us part".

There seems to be a significant "trend" today where if there is not a true partnership and one issues an ultimatum, the other just walks. Therefore the upward rate of divorce and the upward rate of single hood.

Man and women are not willing to be in a dictatorship relationship of marriage.

So, what is the Jewish way of marriage?

Contrary to what many who were "educated" either by the "system", parents and/or friends, Jewish marriage is a continuation of whatever was before marriage.

Before marriage, there are the Mitzvohs of loving your fellow Jew, no hating, no slandering, no loshen hora, no berating, etc. etc. . Nowhere is it mentioned that once one does the Mitzvah of marriage that all the other Mitzvahs between fellow Jews are dismissed. If anything, that is when it is most applicable. That is when it is truly is tested. That is when one sees what they are made of.

The fact that the commercial world has manifested the "ME" society has not helped either.

What is the answer?

True Torah education and/or knowledge, communication, and a "WE" society, most probably would be a good beginning.

Hashem yaazor

Three New Polls

I added 3 new polls.

Please make sure to vote and check the enlightening results!

: )

The Scar

The Scar By Joanna Slan

His thumb softly rubbed the twisted flesh on my cheek. The plastic surgeon, a good fifteen years my senior, was a very attractive man. His masculinity and the intensity of his gaze seemed almost overpowering.
"Hmmm," he said quietly. "Are you a model?"
Is this a joke? Is he kidding? I asked myself, and I searched his handsome face for signs of mockery. No way would anyone ever confuse me with a fashion model. I was ugly. My mother casually referred to my sister as her pretty child. Anyone could see I was homely. After all, I had the scar to prove it.
The accident happened in fourth grade, when a neighbor boy picked up a hunk of concrete and heaved the mass through the side of my face. An emergency room doctor stitched together the shreds of skin, pulling cat-gut through the tattered outside of my face and then suturing the shards of flesh inside my mouth. For the rest of the year, a huge bandage from cheekbone to jaw covered the raised angry welt.
A few weeks after the accident, an eye exam revealed I was nearsighted. Above the ungainly bandage sat a big, thick pair of glasses. Around my head, a short fuzzy glob of curls stood out like mold growing on old bread. To save money, Mom had taken me to a beauty school where a student cut my hair. The overzealous girl hacked away cheerfully. Globs of hair piled up on the floor. By the time her instructor wandered over, the damage was done. A quick conference followed, and we were given a coupon for a free styling on our next visit.
"Well," sighed my father that evening, "you'll always be pretty to me," and he hesitated, "even if you aren't to the rest of the world."
Right. Thanks. As if I couldn't hear the taunts of the other kids at school. As if I couldn't see how different I looked from the little girls whom the teachers fawned over. As if I didn't occasionally catch a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror. In a culture that values beauty, an ugly girl is an outcast. My looks caused me no end of pain. I sat in my room and sobbed every time my family watched a beauty pageant or a "talent" search show.
Eventually I decided that if I couldn't be pretty, I would at least be well-groomed. Over the course of years, I learned to style my hair, wear contact lenses and apply make-up. Watching what worked for other women, I learned to dress myself to best advantage. And now, I was engaged to be married. The scar, shrunken and faded with age, stood between me and a new life.
"Of course, I'm not a model," I replied with a small amount of indignation.
The plastic surgeon crossed his arms over his chest and looked at me appraisingly. "Then why are you concerned about this scar? If there is no professional reason to have it removed, what brought you here today?"
Suddenly he represented all the men I'd ever known. The eight boys who turned me down when I invited them to the girls-ask-boys dance. The sporadic dates I'd had in college. The parade of men who had ignored me since then. The man whose ring I wore on my left hand. My hand rose to my face. The scar confirmed it; I was ugly. The room swam before me as my eyes filled with tears.
The doctor pulled a rolling stool up next to me and sat down. His knees almost touched mine. His voice was low and soft.
"Let me tell you what I see. I see a beautiful woman. Not a perfect woman, but a beautiful woman. Lauren Hutton has a gap between her front teeth. Elizabeth Taylor has a tiny, tiny scar on her forehead," he almost whispered. Then he paused and handed me a mirror. "I think to myself how every remarkable woman has an imperfection, and I believe that imperfection makes her beauty more remarkable because it assures us she is human."
He pushed back the stool and stood up. "I won't touch it. Don't let anyone fool with your face. You are delightful just the way you are. Beauty really does come from within a woman. Believe me. It is my business to know."
Then he left.
I turned to the face in the mirror. He was right. Somehow over the years, that ugly child had become a beautiful woman. Since that day in his office, as a woman who makes her living speaking before hundreds of people, I have been told many times by people of both sexes that I am beautiful. And, I know I am.
When I changed how I saw myself, others were forced to change how they saw me. The doctor didn't remove the scar on my face; he removed the scar on my heart.

Reprinted by permission of Joanna Slan (c) 1998 from A Second Chicken Soup for the Woman's Soul by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Jennifer Read Hawthorne and Marci Shimoff. In order to protect the rights of the copyright holder, no portion of this publication may be reproduced without prior written consent. All rights reserved.

I have read many heart warming stories and every once in a while there is one that comes along that is a "gem" .

This doctor was a gem of a human being. I wish I could meet him one day.

This is a story of which both men and women can benefit.

Hashem bless us all with true wisdom

My hope is

Don't marry a religious soldier?

The Internet site of the Arutz Sheva right-wing radio station announced a new trend Monday: Religious soldiers who participated in the evacuation are considered to have impaired their chances for a good match. A number of young women and their mothers said they would not consider marrying someone who had taken part in the operation.


Wow. I have not yet recovered from the whole situation there, but this really put a "new" twist to the tough already dating scene.

Hashem yaazor

Do you think you got the whole picture?

One Flaw In Women

Got this email. I love this creativity out there.


By the time the Lord made woman, He was into his sixth day of working overtime. An angel appeared and said, "Why are you spending so much time on this one?" And the Lord answered, "Have you seen my spec sheet on her? She has to be completely washable, but not plastic, have over 200 movable parts, all replaceable and able to run on diet coke and leftovers, have a lap that can hold four children at one time, have a kiss that can cure anything from a scraped knee to a broken heart -and she will do everything with only two hands."

The angel was astounded at the requirements. "Only two hands!? No way! And that's just on the standard model? That's too much work for one day. Wait until tomorrow to finish."

"But I won't," the Lord protested. "I am so close to finishing this creation that is so close to my own heart. She already heals herself when she is sick AND can work 18 hour days."

The angel moved closer and touched the woman. "But you have made her so soft, Lord."

"She is soft," the Lord agreed, "but I have also made her tough. You have no idea what she can endure or accomplish."

"Will she be able to think?", asked the angel.

The Lord replied, "Not only will she be able to think, she will be able to reason and negotiate."

The angel then noticed something, and reaching out, touched the woman's cheek. "Oops, it looks like you have a leak in this model. I told you that you were trying to put too much into this one."

"That's not a leak," the Lord corrected, "that's a tear!" "What's the tear for?" the angel asked.

The Lord said, "The tear is her way of expressing her joy, her sorrow, her pain, her disappointment, her love, her loneliness, her grief and her pride." The angel was impressed. "You are a genius, Lord. You thought of everything! Woman is truly amazing."

And she is! Women have strengths that amaze men. They bear hardships and they carry burdens, but they hold happiness, love and joy. They smile when they want to scream. They sing when they want to cry.

They cry when they are happy and laugh when they are nervous. They fight for what they believe in. They stand up to injustice. They don't take "no" for an answer when they believe there is a better solution. They go without so their family can have.

They go to the doctor with a frightened friend. They love unconditionally.

They cry when their children excel and cheer when their friends get awards. They are happy when they hear about a birth or a wedding. Their hearts break when a friend dies. They grieve at the loss of a family member, yet they are strong when they think there is no strength left. They know that a hug and a kiss can heal a broken heart. Women come in all shapes, sizes and colors. They'll drive, fly, walk, run or e-mail you to show how much they care about you. The heart of a woman is what makes the world keep turning. They bring joy, hope and love. They have compassion and ideals. They give moral support to their family and friends. Women have vital things to say and everything to give.

HOWEVER, IF THERE IS ONE FLAW IN WOMEN, IT IS THAT THEY FORGET THEIR WORTH.

A woman's life - from a man's perspective

Got this email and it makes one wonder what are men really thinking out there?
----------------------------------------------------

What is the difference between girls/woman aged: 8, 18, 28, 38, 48, 58, 68, and 78 ?


At 8 -- You take her to bed and tell her a story.






At 18 -- You tell her a story and take her to bed.








At 28 -- You don't need to tell her a story to take her to bed.








At 38 -- She tells you a story and takes you to bed.









At 48 -- She tells you a story to avoid going to bed.






At 58 -- You stay in bed to avoid her story.







At 68 -- If you take her to bed, that'll be a story!








At 78 -- What story??? What bed??? Who are you???










---------------------------------------------
Is this one of the reasons why marriages are failing? Is this one of the reasons divorce is up? Is this one of the reasons why fewer people one to get married?

To find a woman- Harvard Math

What are our true hopes?

Once upon a time, the "media" consisted of our parents, friends, and culture. The same “media” in turn influenced them.

Today the media is the world. The influence instead of being positive has done the opposite. Not only are our parents, friends, and culture not our "media" anymore, but even they have been "influenced" by the world media. All this adds up to what?

How and what will turn around the future of dating and marriage?

Perfectionism

Got this in my email.

A COUPLE I KNOW were discussing their wallpaper, which had just been hung. Dov was annoyed at Debby's indifference to what he felt was a poor job. "The problem is that I'm a perfectionist and you're not," he finally said to her. "Exactly!" she replied. "That's why you married me and I married you!"

All Thing Grow . . . with Love

All Thing Grow . . . with Love
By Joan Bramsch

I once taught in a small private school located within the charming confines of a three-story stone mansion. Each morning at nine o'clock all the students gathered in the Great Room for a metaphysical warm-up in preparation for the day. Fifty-three children, ranging in age from three to seven years, sat on child-sized colorful chairs or in sun-flooded patterns on the thick carpet. Each bright face was illuminated by positive thoughts and feelings as he or she eagerly anticipated the morning's songs, meditations and exploration into yet another metaphysical cranny of the mind.
One morning the headmistress made an announcement to all the children gathered. "Today we begin a great experiment of the mind, of your mind." She held up two small ivy plants, each potted in an identical container. "Here we have two plants," she continued. "Do they look the same?"
All the children nodded solemnly. So did I, for, in this way, I was also a child.
"We will give the plants the same amount of light, the same amount of water, but not the same amount of attention," she said. "Together we are going to see what will happen when we put one plant out in the kitchen, on the counter, away from our attention, and the other plant right here in this room on the mantel."
She placed one plant on the white wooden ledge, then led the children en masse to the kitchen where she sat the other plant on the white counter. Afterward she led the parade of wide-eyed youngsters back to their places in the Great Room.
"Each day for the next month, we shall sing to our plant on the mantel," she said. "We will tell it with words how much we love it, how beautiful it is. We will use our good minds to think good thoughts about this plant."
One of the smallest children jumped to her feet. "But, Ma'am, what about the plant out there?" She pointed a stubby finger toward the kitchen.
The headmistress smiled at all her charges. "We will use the kitchen plant as the 'control' in our great experiment. How do you think that will work?"
"We won't speak to it?"
"Not even a whisper."
"We won't send it good thoughts?"
"That's right. And then we'll see what happens."
Four weeks later my novice eyes were as wide and disbelieving as the children's. The kitchen plant was leggy and sick-looking, and it hadn't grown at all. But the Great Room plant, which had been sung to and swaddled in positive thoughts and words, had increased threefold in size with dark succulent leaves that fairly vibrated with energy when addressed with song, word or thought.
In order to prove the experiment - and also to dry the tears of the tender-hearted among us who feared for the life of the other plant - the kitchen ivy was rescued from its solitary confinement and brought to the Great Room to join the other ivy on the mantel, but at the opposite end.
Within three weeks, the second plant had caught up with the first ivy. Within four weeks, they could not be recognized, one from the other.
I took this lesson to heart and made it my own:
All things grow . . . with love.

Reprinted by permission of Joan Bramsch (c) 1980 from Chicken Soup for the Teacher's Soul by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen. In order to protect the rights of the copyright holder, no portion of this publication may be reproduced without prior written consent. All rights reserved

Subject: Bridal Registry

Jacob, age 92, and Rebecca, age 89, living in Florida, are all excited about their decision to get married. They go for a stroll to discuss the wedding, and on the way, they pass a drugstore. Jacob suggests they go in.

Jacob addresses the man behind the counter: "Are you the owner?"

The pharmacist answers, "Yes."

Jacob: "We're about to get married. Do you sell heart medication?"

Pharmacist: "Of course we do."

Jacob: "How about medicine for circulation?"

Pharmacist: "All kinds."

Jacob: "Medicine for rheumatism and scoliosis?"

Pharmacist: "Definitely."

Jacob: "Medicine for memory problems, arthritis, jaundice?"

Pharmacist: "Yes, a large variety. The works."

Jacob: "What about vitamins, sleeping pills, Geritol, antidotes for Parkinson's disease?"

Pharmacist: "Absolutely."

Jacob: "You sell wheelchairs and walkers?"

Pharmacist: "All speeds and sizes."

Jacob: "We'd like to use this store as our Bridal Registry."

What is the purpose of marriage?

I do want to get into the question of "what is the purpose of life?” What I have found, though, is that we have to ponder other fundamental questions before we ponder the BIG question.

Over the years I have asked people, what are the TOP 3 reasons to get married? I was quite amazed that very few actually had an answer. From those that did answer, it totaled close to some 20 different reasons.

People who were already married I asked the same question, but I asked them what they were thinking before marriage and what are they thinking now since that have experienced marriage.

When I coach couples to be able to communicate and to understand how the other side thinks I would usually ask them to complete a list of the 10 items in the poll (plus some ) and then I would show them each the other’s answer and where the compare and differ. Most couples were quite surprised how in the dark they had been.

What I find today more than anytime in the history and existence of this creation that in this country the options and reasons are almost non-existent.

Hope, G"W, to more actively blog about this.

Wishing all a more "purpose" Shabbos

Finding your half is a revelation?

The Mishpacha family weekly has just concluded a 3 part series about the shiduch scene, which I would recommend to read.

I found this among other observations intriguing.

Regarding whether to use one's inner voice to guide one's decision, one shadchunit expressed it this way.

"The problem with the inner voice is that it only works if you're not clouded. If you're filled with baggage from the galus of Hollywood, your inner voice is muffled. You're not going to receive a clear message. Very few people hear a clear message.

"Finding your other half is not a decision. It's a revelation. And people shouldn't be rushed or pushed in the process. NO one should ever force a person to think a certain way. You need a person that you trust, to help uncover what you really feel inside, but the final decision about what you really feel is your own. "

Everyone needs to truly start communicating

Here is an example of what the boy &/or girl tells the Shadchun, or what the boy tell the girl, or the girl tells the boy, or what an unqualified Shadchun will tell his/her clients, or what parents and friends to whomever and what the results will end up like.

Everyone needs to truly start communicating.

Dating & Shadchunim Now vs Once upon a time

I recently attended a Sasson V'Simcha seminar of "The art of Matchmaking and Mentoring" presented by Rosie Einhorn, L.C.S.W., and Sherry Zimmerman, Esq. .

With all the knowledge and experience I have had, I found it to be immensely focused, educational, and up to date. My personal opinion is, any Shadchun or Mentor who does not attend such a seminar or equivalent (if there is one), is spinning their wheels at best, and who knows if they are not doing more harm than good.

There is no doubt that what the expectations and demands from Shadchunim and future spouses of even 5 years ago were and what they are today is like night and day.

The reasons are too many to post all at once, but I do hope to cover them, G"W, in the coming weeks.

One thing that stood out the most was the positive attitude needed, that they kept on emphasizing. You cannot blame anybody, and everyone needs education and chizuk (encouragement).

There are many good things going on in this shadcunim world, and my dream, even with all the great odds mounting, seems to be getting more colorful.