“We were talking about his schooling, right?” she said. “And he said, ‘Look, my whole life I dreamed about being an astrophysicist. But you know, if it doesn’t work out, I already did my sciences, I can become something else — a PA, a nurse, even an OT or something.’ ”

Here her voice rose. “I was like, what? I need a guy who is serious about his career. Focused. I don’t want my kids to grow up like I did. He was way too cavalier about the whole thing.” She mimicked his tone. “Whatever, I can just become a nurse or an OT or something!” She blew out a breath. “It’s not for me. I need a stable guy. He’s not showing any sense of commitment or responsibility!”

I tried to keep my voice emotionless. “This really doesn’t fit with everything else I know about Yehuda,” I said. “Can you give me the context for this comment?”

She thought for a moment. “Ummm… he was saying he still has a bunch of years left of schooling. And he said a lot can happen in so many years. And if we — uh, he gets married, and his wife works while he finishes his PhD, and they have kids… if she needs to stop working, he can always become a nurse or OT or something.”

“Riki,” I said, trying to stay calm, “let’s picture this for a second. You’re married, you have two little kids, you’re pregnant. You say to your husband, I can’t deal with this anymore, I can’t work so hard. And he says, ‘Too bad! You knew when we were dating that this was my dream, you promised me. You’ll just have to keep your promise.’ ” I paused. “What kind of husband is that?”

She was quiet.

“Yehuda is not irresponsible, he’s showing unbelievable responsibility. He’s telling you that he’d be willing to give up his lifelong dream in order to take care of his wife and family. That’s the most noble thing a husband can do!”

Riki was stunned. Stunned that she’d completely misinterpreted Yehuda, and horrified that she’d almost passed him up.

So was I, actually. Stunned and horrified that she’d spoken to three different people, who had all advised her to dump a guy who was perfect for her. None of them knew the boy, none of them had made any attempt to find out more about him. None of them had asked her for more context. They had all rubber-stamped her decision without fully understanding the situation.

None of them had tried calling me, either. There’s this stereotype of the conniving shadchan who just wants to close the deal. But good shadchanim know that the goal is not the wedding — the goal is healthy relationships.

Riki’s situation reminded me of another shidduch that had almost died in the hands of a mentor.

Chany came from a difficult family situation and had her own journey, too. There was a lot of history, and it made guys wary. She was 25, and this was only the third boy she was dating. Shaya had some baggage too, but their strengths complemented each other. I thought they were a good fit and could be happy together.

She liked him, he liked her, and everything was going well, until Chany confided in her teacher after the seventh date that she’d gotten cold feet. “How do I know there isn’t another guy around the corner who is way better for me?”

It was totally normal for Chany to be anxious, and Chany’s teacher could have said any number of things. She could have said, “When you’re dating someone, you have to consider that person, and make a decision about that person, without thinking about another mythical guy who may or may not exist.”

She could have said, “You need to think about what’s in front of you right now, not what might be in the future.”

She could have said, “Tell me about his maalos, and then let’s see if you can work with the things that are bothering you.”

She could even have said, “A relationship is made up of two people, but I don’t know Shaya. Let me make some calls and find out more about him.”

But instead she said, “I can’t say there isn’t a better guy around the corner. Who knows? Could be there is a much better guy around the corner!” She had repeated it several times: Could be there is a much better guy around the corner!

She planted tremendous doubt in Chany’s mind, and she and Shaya had to date for four more weeks until Chany regained the lost ground and felt ready to get engaged.

Like Chany, Riki was lucky. She could still fix her mistake. She called back her mentor, her brother, and her BFF, and explained to each of them the context of Yehuda’s comments. They all agreed with her that he was one in a million, and of course she should marry him — it wasn’t rocket science.

But sometimes, giving advice is.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 696)