Finally, it was after Pesach, and Mordy Saltzman was officially ready to start dating. But there was a new snag: His mother had been keeping her eye on a certain girl for a long time — longer than eight months, apparently — and he had to go out with her first.

This certainly wasn’t coming easy.

He went out with her, and it didn’t work out. Now, finally, I could tell them about Tzipi.

“Tzipi Pepper?” Mrs. Saltzman said. “I know her! We daven in the same shul. She’s a great girl.”

“Mordy Saltzman?” Rabbi Pepper said. “I know him! I see him around all the time. It’s a great idea.”

That was a surprise. I don’t live in their community, so I had no idea the Saltzmans and Peppers were friends and lived around the corner from each other.

“Do you need directions to her house?” I asked Mordy jokingly before their first date. “I don’t want you to get lost and be late. We waited a whole year for this!”

When they got engaged, we called them the best seasoned couple — Mordy Saltzman to Esti Pepper. I told them they’re welcome at a meal anytime.

Even though I had been so sure they were right for each other, I couldn’t stop marveling at how the shidduch unfolded. If I had known that the families were friends, would I have suggested it? If not for all the preceding drama, would the families have been inclined to consider a shidduch with someone they know?

Oh, not him — I’ve known him my whole life.

She was in my sister’s class, and my sister doesn’t see it at all.

We daven in the same shul — it’s not for me.

It reminded me of the time I suggested Perry to Gavi. Gavi, who was 27 at the time, said no immediately.

“That has got to be the most commonly redt shidduch ever,” he said, with an exaggerated sigh. “Everyone thinks of it. But I know her — she’s my sister’s best friend.”

“C’mon, Gavi, she’s a great idea for you. Why don’t you give it a shot?”

“Mrs. Leiman, I know her. Perry basically lives in my house. She’s not my type.”

I tried to convince him, then I tried to convince his mother. “Gavi knows his own mind,” she told me. “There’s nothing I can say to convince him.”

But two years later, when Gavi turned 29, it shook him up. Was he going to be 30 and still single? He relented and agreed to meet Perry.

It turned out that “everyone” had been right.

It’s not only Gavi. Jenny had been a bas bayis at our home. She practically lived with us for four years. My kids loved her and became her adopted siblings. Danny was very close to my husband and had basically grown up in our house. Jenny and Danny had sat at the same Shabbos table countless times. (Opposite ends of the table, but still.)

When they both reached marriageable age, we decided to set them up.

“No way,” Jenny said. “I know him, he’s not for me.”

“You just know him casually,” I argued. “Dating means learning about him in a much deeper way. You’ll get to know a totally different person.”

Five years later they’re happily married with two children.

All these stories make me pause and reflect.

“I would neeeever have thought of it!” was the common refrain at the Pepper-Saltzman vort. “It’s too close to home.”

But sometimes the thing we’re searching for is right there in front of us.

Shani Leiman is a teacher, shadchan, and dating coach. She lives in  Silver Spring, Maryland.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 742)