| Musings |

Are You My Bashert?

He came to a Size 2. “Are you my bashert?” he said to the Size 2.

A mother watched her young bochur learn in yeshivah.

The freezer would be open soon.

“Oh, no,” said the mother. “My young bochur will be out of the freezer. He will need a shidduch!”

“I must go find a shidduch for my young bochur!” she said. “I will look at some résumés!”

So away she went.

The freezer opened!

Out came the young bochur.

“Where is my bashert?” he said.

He looked for her.

He looked at one résumé. It was not her.

He looked at another résumé. It was not her.

“I will go and look for her,” he said.

So away he went.

Down the steps, out of yeshivah he went.

Downtown, uptown, center of town. It was a long way to all the lounges.

The young bochur could not mingle with girls.

The young bochur could not mingle with girls, but he could go on dates. “Now, I will go and find my bashert,” he said.

He did not know what his bashert looked like. He went right by her. He did not see her.

He came to a Size 2. “Are you my bashert?” he said to the Size 2.

The Size 2 just looked and looked. It did not say a thing.

The Size 2 was not his bashert, so he went on.

Then he came to a BJJ. “Are you my bashert?” he said to the BJJ. “No,” said the BJJ.

The Size 2 was not his bashert. The BJJ was not his bashert. So the bochur went on.

“I have to find my bashert!” he said. “But where? Where is she? Where could she be?”

Then, he came to a Picture. “Are you my bashert?” he asked the Picture.

“I am not your bashert. I am a Picture,” said the Picture.

The Size 2 was not his bashert. The BJJ was not his bashert. The Picture was not his bashert.

The bochur dated some more. Now he came to a College Degree (from a frum program, of course!).

“Are you my bashert?” he said to the College Degree.

“How could I be your bashert?” said the College Degree. “I am a College Degree.”

The Size 2 and the BJJ were not his bashert. The Picture and the College Degree were not his bashert.

Did he have a bashert?

“I do have a bashert,” said the bochur. “I know I do. I have to find her. I will. I will!”

Now, the bochur did not just go on dates. He went to the shadchanim. Then, he saw an Out of Town. Could that thing be his bashert? No, it could not.

The young bochur did not stop dating. He dated on and on.

Now, he looked way, way out of his city. He saw a Fancy Job. “There she is!” said the young bochur.

He said yes to the Fancy Job, but the Fancy Job did not say yes. Fancy Job moved on to someone else.

He looked way, way out of town. He saw Full Support. “Yes, I want to go out again,” he called to the shadchan.

But Full Support did not want to go out again.

Then the young bochur met Yichus. “Are you my bashert?” he asked Yichus. But Yichus was not his bashert either.

He dated some more.

He met Makeup, Lenses, and Heels. This was it! I always wanted Makeup, Lenses, and Heels, thought the young bochur. But one day, Makeup, Lenses, and Heels wore a pony. “Oh no!” said the young bochur. “Makeup, Lenses, and Heels is not for me.”

Just then, the young bochur saw Typical in Town. This must be his bashert! “There she is!” he said. “This is my bashert.”

He ran right up to her house for a date. “Bashert, Bashert! Here I am, Bashert!” he said to Typical in Town.

But Typical in Town just said, “No.”

“Oh, she is not my bashert,” said the young bochur. “She is a No. I have to get out of here.”

But the young bochur could not get away from the shadchan. The shadchan talked and talked and talked. And the young bochur had to listen and listen and listen.

But what was the shadchan talking about? “Oh, oh, oh! What is this shadchan going to do to me? Get me out of here!”

Just then, the shadchan stopped.

“Who am I looking for? I want to find my bashert! I want to find my kallah!”

Then, something happened. The shadchan put the young bochur right in his place. The young bochur finally understood!

Just then his rebbi appeared. “Do you know who you are looking for?” asked his Rebbi.

“Yes, I know who I am looking for,” said the young bochur.

“I am not looking for a Size 2, the BJJ, a Picture, a College Degree, Out of Town, Fancy Job, Full Support, Yichus, Makeup, Lenses and Heels, or Typical in Town.

“I am looking for a young lady with wonderful middos and hashkafos that match mine. I am looking for a girl who wants to build a Torahdig home, someone who will be my eishes chayil and help me build a bayis ne’eman b’Yisrael.”

Just then, a résumé for Young Lady appeared.

The young bochur went on a date with Young Lady. He looked past all her externals. He looked at her middos, at her hashkafos, at her fine character and personality.

“Will you be my bashert?” the young bochur asked her.

“Yes, I will,” said Bashert.


(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 892)

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