MY URBAN KVETCH

A Fish Out of Water: Evolution's Solution to the Singles Crisis?

If you're single, and you've ever been interested in someone whose lifestyle is very different from your own--which in the Jewish world usually means religiously--you've likely heard the phrase, "A bird may love a fish, but where will they build a house?" Or maybe you're a fan of classic Broadway and know that "fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly." Well, what if those assumptions were not true?

Now , according to the Daily Mail, nature weighs in on "religious" difference affecting living arrangements, with the mangrove killfish. This violently named fish spends several months of every year out of the water and living inside trees.

Hidden away inside rotten branches and trunks, the remarkable creatures temporarily alter their biological makeup so they can breathe air. Biologists studying the killifish say they astonished it can cope for so long out of its natural habitat.

These changes are only temporary, altering to permit the fish to live in the tree for a while; at some point, the fish reverses its composition and returns to the water. This fish is more adaptable than most single people.

Forget the creepiness of a fish that can haul itself onto dry land and find shelter in a tree; this was an exciting discovery. If fish can live in trees, then maybe there can be compromise when it comes to religious differences? To carry through the metaphor, will there be a point at which "a fish" and "a bird" could conceivably build "a house" together?

Not so fast...

Apparently, the killfish was previously best known for one other bizarre quirk: they are the only known vertebrate (animal with a backbone) to reproduce without the need for a mate.

Killifish can develop both female and male sexual organs, and fertilise their eggs while they are still in the body, laying tiny embryos into the water.

This is nature's irony: that the most adaptable of species are too independent to require companionship. Is such a species to be pitied, or is there a lesson to be learned?

[crossposted to JDatersAnonymous]

 

New Reality Show Idea: How to Solve "the Singles Crisis"

No really, just hear me out...it seems like everyone has an answer to this singles crisis thing (which all stems from the fact that Jews -- and let's face it, almost everyone else too -- are marrying and procreating later. So let's start an open application process. Apply with your idea, then we take seven winners and present them to Shmuley Boteach, who puts them through a series of challenges. The losers are dismissed with the show's tagline: "You have failed the Jewish people. But not as much as the single women in their 30s who 'chose' to stay single and could have had seven babies by now."

Too depressing? Maybe. But that's why you have the sympathetic, comforting presence of singles columnist Esther Kustanowitz to guide contestants through the process. And the top five receive guest posting gigs at JDaters Anonymous.

Crazy? Don't you call me crazy. Every morning I wake up and Bravo has a new reality show, including the latest one, "Flipping Out," which (until I saw a preview) I was pretty sure was about guys who go off to Israel to study for a year, come back home, and only eat Pas and Cholov Yisrael. So it's pretty possible.

Want to read about two more ideas for solving the singles crisis? Check out YU's latest endeavor and the Jewish Journal's suggestion, both as delivered by the JDaters Anonymous blogger.

This Week's Clips

Want to make "An Inconvenient Truth" for kids? Too late. It's already done, and it's called "Arctic Tale." (My review at Beliefnet is here, original title: "Save the Animals, Save the World.")

Are you really wearing that "Mrs. Pitt" t-shirt again? Changing your Facebook status for the 47th time today? Then you need to read my latest column at the Jewish Week, here.

And the umpteenth and last time I'll link to my JTA piece about "Orthodox Paradox," which was recently the subject of a follow-up article in the Jewish Week that revealed that the "crop heard round the world," as I put it, actually never happened. Or as the JW titled it, "Snap, Crackle, No Crop."

Dating and the Single Jewish Celebrity--Or, How People Decided I'm a Racist

Last year, I was in my "Letters to Celebrities" phase--when I saw a celebrity doing something odd or noteworthy or puzzling or interesting, I'd pen a letter to them. I never sent these letters--they were for writing exercise and for entertainment only. I sometimes explored an issue for myself or because someone else had asked me to, but for the most part, it was just for entertainment's sake.

But then there's this post, this letter to Zach Braff, that just won't die. People keep writing in, calling me "stupid," "racist," "tribal," and -- in my personal favorite -- a "fucking lunatic," all because I expressed a wish to see him with a nice Jewish girl.

I wasn't saying that you should cut little Chavaleh off from the family just because she ran away with Fyedka the Russian. (Hey, wasn't that the plot of the sixth season of Sex and the Shtetl?) Nor was it a statement calling for the alienation and ostracization of intermarried couples or interfaith relationships--I don't think anyone wins that way. All I was saying was that it would be nice to see a Jewish celebrity who married for both love and faith, and would serve as a symbol to those who are single and seeking.

Two New Columns and Sunny Shabbat Shalom

Is dating like dermatology? Television? Traffic? The short answer, yes. I'm an English major for life (yo), so I can create a system of meaning around any basis for comparison. Watch me delve into similes, metaphors, analogies, comparisons and various other things as I muse on the subject of "Dating is Like..."

And those of you who were involved (or became sucked into) the discussion of whether or not to invite single wedding guests with a "plus one" will be glad to see that the article on that subject, "Plus-One or Plus-None?" finally appeared in the Jewish Week's "catered events" section last week. So read and discuss: what would you do if you and your significant other were inviting your single friends? And singles, what would you prefer your friends do?

Wishing you a Shabbat shalom from Los Angeles, where I'm California dreamin', desperately trying to store up some sunshine to carry me back to NYC next week.

Esther K: Wedding Expert

Would you listen to a singles columnist if she wrote a list of Top Ten Must-Haves for a Jewish Wedding? Why not? I mean, I've been to a bunch of weddings and I have the bentschers to prove it.

So take this article for Bride & Bloom Magazine in the spirit of reflection, humor, and trying to turn all those smorgasbords into paying articles.

And check it out, for nuggets of wisdom  about why we break that plate, why Jews like to wander while they eat, and where you might be able to find America's Funniest Home Video or YouTube moments.

Heeb's Love Issue and a Special Friend Without Benefits

So there I was, at the Heeb party  with Lindsay celebrating the release of their new "Love" issue. (Following the "Food" issue and the "Money" issue before that, with the "Sex" issue somewhere in the middle, there's clearly a progression here somewhere.) For a change, the party was not in a dirty downtown bar off the F-train and so overpacked with people that you can't tell which Ross or Rachel or girl from the copy place you're talking to. It was in the fancy Tribeca Grand hotel, where your soles don't stick to the floor and your drinks cost in the double digits. But what's important was that I was there with some of my friends, and they were there for me too.

Because the theme was Love, there were little callouts to that theme all over: little conversation hearts in a big dish on some of the low tables, gum samples individually wrapped so that everyone would have minty-fresh breath in case...and a kissing booth. Sort of.

Apparently, there was another Heeb "Love Issue" Launch party going on on the West Coast, in San Francisco, to be exact. And editor Josh Neumann (see left) had the idea of having Chloe O'Brien creating a video uplink (or linkup, not sure) so that someone at Heeb Launch Party NYC could put their chin in the provided chin holder at the same time as someone else did at Heeb Launch Party SanFran, and then the two could virtually smooch. Because I owed it to you, intrepid readers, I tried this new machine. And while the idea was cute, the experience was not unlike what shomer negiah daters must experience. So close, and yet, so far. Plus there's that whole awkward moment when your chin's in the holder (like when you get your vision checked), and you're bent over the machine with your lips pursed, waiting for someone to come along and kiss you. Then someone comes over, puts his (or her) chin in the SF equivalent and sees you, and then gets up and leaves. I guess it happens...maybe the guy was just on a break.

And there was a late and brief celebrity appearance. I was too chill to ask for a photo with him. But here's a stolen photo of his profile (snapped unintentionally in the background of another picture, and you tell me when you recognize him.

And by the way, there are clues to his identity in the above post.

And THAT, my friend, is what you call "closure."

YouTube Finds Me...

About a month ago, I was interviewed for a Canadian online TV network about dating, relationships, and whether or not I'll have a career after I get married. So you might as well hear it from me--I'm on YouTube...

If I'd had a test run, there are a few things I would have done differently (like my hair). But hindsight is always 20/20 vision. Anyway, enjoy!

That's Part 1. Part 2 is here...

Intimacy Intermezzo

I walk into Starbucks and take a seat, setting up my computer near an available outlet. Behind me, a couple sits at a table and ponders the state of their relationship and the slate of medications that they're currently on. The woman, an attractive Latina in her thirties, tries not to sniffle into her decaf skim macchiato, while her companion, a fortysomething man with wild, graying hair and strongly accented speech, makes excuses for his mental state.

He runs through the litany, one after another, in a cascade of whining so cliched that it seems like a mantra or a roadblock in a bad romantic comedy. He's not ready, he’s not mature, he likes her a lot and enjoys her company but isn’t ready to “take life serious.” She pleads meekly, barely audibly, to the man from whom she wants something more. She whispers, her pain muting her words. He prattles on, loud enough for us all to hear. I feel kind of bad listening, taking notes on their conflict, but I’m a student in the university of life; when a high-volume lesson comes along, I take notes, no matter where and when.

He soldiers on, "trying not to lie to her" and “trying not to be one of those people,” but that he can’t rise to the level that she wants. “Why can’t you just leave things the way they are? I’m immature. I never grew up. I can’t rise to the level. I won’t do it to you or to anyone else. I’m damaged goods. My parents screwed me up. I had bad parents. I’m bad news, I’m telling you. I don’t have the goods that can make you happy. I like your scarf.”

He recaps what he wants (to not be serious) and what she wants (a relationship) and notes that the two are incompatible. All the while, I eavesdrop on the attempted honesty and feel complicit in the deception. Every time he says "I’m not going to lie to you," the "honesty" of what comes next seems suspect.

"I enjoy your company," he says. "Let’s change the subject. Is anything good on TV tonight? " "CSI," she says, somewhat weakly. Meantime, I perform my own autopsy, on the conversation itself and on these two pathetic people—one incapable of connection, the other making a poor choice in her heart's pursuit. They transition from the serious to small talk about stores that have gone bankrupt and closed, despite the fact that they were a great addition to the neighborhood. After some deliberation over that most citycentric of conundra--where the original Original Ray's Pizza actually is--the two pulled up their conversational roots and took their leave of my living conversational laboratory.

As they walk out the front door and disappear into the throng of Saturday night dates on Broadway, I exhale as I intone, "Wow." I can't believe that they had such an intimate, personal, shoulda-been-private conversation in a public arena, at that decibel level. What circumstances could have led to that conversation in that space? I cannot imagine for the life of me making that choice...to reveal my soul to another is a choice I seldom make even when privacy is assured. But to engage in such self-exposition before the eyes and ears of my fellow daters and Saturday night dissertation writers is something I cannot understand. As a writer, I'm glad they were there, granting me an insight into the conversational reality of relationships that is absent from movies and TV dramas and plays.

And that's why I sit there, representing the writers--plugged into the outlets in the walls and plugged into the relationships of fellow citydwellers, our individual creativity ebbing and flowing in a collective as we look to the human parade before us to distract, inspire and spur us on as we continue to churn out the pages that we hope will--someday, to someone--make a difference.

"Recommitment Ceremony" (JW-First Person Singular)

Wishing all my readers a shanah tovah u'metukah--may this year be one of health, creativity, peace and happiness for us all.

Recommitment Ceremony (Jewish Week–First Person Singular)
by Esther D. Kustanowitz
(09/29/2006)

To err is human, clearly. And during the High Holy Day season, even those of us who acknowledge our errant ways and engage in the process of repentance with a pure heart still possess the fatal flaw of our humanity. As soon as the hunger pangs from the Yom Kippur fast wane, we’re back on stage in our tragicomedy of errors, slinging gossip over bagels and lox, and likely violating any Rosh HaShanah resolutions before sunrise on the 11th of Tishrei. Another year goes by, and we’re back in our synagogues, proclaiming our guilt all over again in an endless annual loop—it’s like an episode of “The Twilight Zone.”

What’s the point in persisting in this annual dance of repentance?

In the literal realm of human marital relationships, some couples, after five, 10, 20 years or so, decide to proclaim to the world that the person they’ve found is the person they still want to spend their lives with. They hold “second weddings” or “vow renewals” or “recommitment ceremonies,” inviting friends to witness the re-consecration of their partnership. But often, such ceremonies are prompted by the discovery of a breach in confidence or respect or another violation of the rules of sanctified relationships. Or perhaps the pair has survived a trauma and feels the need to reaffirm—not just for the sake of celebrating love in the public eye, but to put their own souls at ease—that despite all that has happened, their mate is still the One.

So the two stand there, opposite each other, looking into the eyes of their beloved and looking for a trust and commitment that they may not find. A partner may admit that he or she has made mistakes, and may swear before you and a group of people that from here on in, it’s all faith and devotion. But there’s a part of you that’s unsure: can people really change?

The relationship between God and the Jewish people is often cushioned in the metaphorical language of marital commitment. In Genesis, God made a covenant — sealed in flesh in the form of a brit milah (circumcision), which promised the Land of Israel to Abraham and his children. The terms of the agreement — God gives the land of Israel to the people, and the people will worship God — are reiterated at Mount Sinai. The term that God uses to refer to the people is segulah, which indicates a special, sanctified relationship like marriage.

And a midrash on the Mount Sinai narrative interprets that when the text says that the people stood b’tahteet ha’har, literally “in the bottom of the mountain,” that the mountain was suspended, chupah-like, over the heads of the assembled people — were they to try to end the relationship with God, they would have been crushed. And some suggest that Song of Songs, which describes a physically passionate affair — seemingly between a man and a woman — is a metaphor for the relationship between God and the Jews.

When it comes to actual marriage, something I admittedly don’t know anything about, I imagine that certain violations are forgivable and that others are not. At some point the two people who make up the zug (the couple) have to assess whether the relationship is worth it. But in the relationship with God, in which we have no way of really knowing whether God has forgiven us, the best we can do is see this annual assessment as a state of the union between the Jews and God.

The High Holy Day season is a chance to renew our relationship with Jewish life. Every year, we stand with our metaphorically wedded partner under a canopy of recommitment, and promise to marry each other all over again. As our Creator, surely God knows not to expect perfection — our entire relationship has been a bumpy cycle of imperfection: We violate our contract of commitment with God, and God rebukes but quickly forgives.

Still, we do what we can to make positive changes in our lives, to increase our commitment to living as nobly and morally as human beings can. We critically assess our actions and hopefully forgive ourselves as we attempt to curb evil inclinations, in the pursuit of more permanent partnerships, with other people and with God.

Shanah tovah!