I’m no marriage expert, although the fact that I’ve been happily married for 24 years this summer should count for something.

It seems to me that yes, you need compatibility, respect, and common goals, but most of all, a happy marriage requires you to have a strong tolerance for someone’s quirks and eccentricities. Because as someone wise once said, “A great marriage is not when the perfect couple comes together, it’s when an imperfect couple learns to enjoy their differences.”

My first date with my husband should have gone like this:

Me: Okay, so I have this thing. I love to name-drop. If your friend is a friend of a friend of a big business entrepreneur or the stepsister of a famous film director, I’ll tell everyone about that — and not in a subtle way. May I mention here that I know the stepsister of an Israeli film director — she slept in my house. The thing is, I don’t ever want to meet the business tycoon or the film director; I really don’t idolize the actual people, but I like to know the people who know them or are related to them, and tell people I know them.

J: Well, I think that could work, because it happens to be that my second cousin’s Tante Sora by marriage is a third cousin of a big gadol who is so humble that I’m not even sure of his name. Does your name-dropping obsession include gedolim?

Me: Yes, of course! This could totally work because if I married you, your cousin’s Tante Sora would also be my cousin’s Tante Sora and I would add her to the list of people I name-drop. I’m always looking for people to add to the list. By the way, it’s not an actual written list, it’s just a list in my head.

J: Okay, I think I can handle that. My turn. I love puns. I have a punny sense of humor — get it? So for the rest of your life, when you say two thirty, I’m going to say “Ouch” because my Poppi, who was also a very punny man, would always tell the joke, “What’s the best time to go to the dentist? Tooth hurty.” Oh, and by the way, I’ll indoctrinate our children, and they’ll have this type of humor. Your life will be one big Laffy Taffy wrapper.

Me: Sounds manageable. The next bizarre thing about me: I have a fear of black ice. The idea that something you cannot see, and seemingly comes out of nowhere, and can make you fall and break your leg, makes me incredibly anxious. So if this is to work out and someone we know chas v’shalom slips and hurts himself on black ice, it’s best if you tell me he got hit by a car or was robbed at gunpoint. That would be a huge comfort to me. Oh, and every time when you leave the house to go to shul in the winter, I’ll warn you about black ice.

J: I can handle that. But — here’s another idiosyncrasy that I have. I love sports. I mean, I love, love sports. I’m particularly attached to my hometown sports teams, who, by the way, lose all the time — the basketball, baseball, and football teams.

Me: Well, I have a great love of Russian history. My Russian history professor in college was fantastic. I pepper my conversations with references to Russia, particularly the period of the Bolshevik Revolution until the fall of the Berlin Wall. I use words like Gulag Archipelago — which was what Stalin’s labor camps were called, because they covered the Siberian landscape like little islands. I say things like, “Do you know that St. Petersburg was called Leningrad during the Communist era?” I do this even if the people I’m talking to aren’t remotely interested. Once I get started, I can’t stop. By the way, I should note that this is extra strange, because I’m of Hungarian descent.

J: Okay, an intellectual. You’re bright and inquisitive.

Me: Oh, let me make this clear, this has nothing to do with intellect, but everything to do with social awkwardness. When I’m in a social situation and I feel uncomfortable, I regurgitate random facts. And when I say facts, I use this term loosely — I spout information and make it sound like I know what I’m talking about. I sometimes say, “You may want to check that out, I may not remember correctly,” but not always.

J: I think I need to go back to the sports thing. I don’t think you understand. Being a fan of losing teams can be really stressful. They never win, but I’m devoted to them. Every year I say I’ve had enough, I’m a frum Jew, enough of this shtus, but every year I devour any and all information about them. Oh, also, I can complain about them with fellow fans, but if someone else makes fun of them, I get angry and scowl every time that person’s name is mentioned. Um, and that’s not all. I can’t focus on much of anything the day before and the day of an important game.

Me: Okay, sports. I have no brothers, but I have boy cousins. I get it, that’s a guy thing. I can do that. Let’s move on. Similar to the name-dropping thing, I don’t shy away from taking credit where no credit is due. For example, if my friend’s grandmother was valedictorian, I’ll act like it was all because of me even though I wasn’t even born at the time.

J: Egg salad.

Me: Huh?

J: Egg salad. I say that in lieu of “excellent.” I also say “not a piece of celery” when I mean “not necessarily.” I also say “baking powder” instead of “I beg your pardon.”

Me: How often do you need to say I beg your pardon? I mean does anyone really say I beg your pardon anymore?

J: See? That’s all the more reason why you should say baking powder.

Me: That doesn’t make sense.

J: True, but that doesn’t stop me. Here’s some more stuff. I don’t like sushi, I don’t eat tomatoes, and I refuse to go near avocados.

Me: Okay, that’s fine. There’s only a very short window of time in which I’ll eat a banana; it needs to be just a little bit green.

J: Really? Let me ask you, do you know why the banana went to the doctor?

Me: Um, no…

J: He wasn’t peeling well.

Me: Okay, so these jokes, um, exactly what are we looking at here? I mean, on average, how many times a day will you be telling these jokes?

J: Oh, at least ten times a day. On vacation, it’ll definitely increase. I should mention that I use the same ones over and over again, but once in a while (usually after I’ve eaten a Laffy Taffy), I come up with a new one. You should know that it’s a very popular form of humor used by men, especially after they become fathers. Actually, 25 years from now, they’ll coin the term to describe it: Dad Humor.

Me: Okaaaay, well, otherwise you really seem like a great guy, so I think I can handle that. In fifth grade, Rachy Fogel, Malka Gross, and I did a project on the Aztecs. We got an A+++. We made pyramids out of sugar cubes. I may mention this four to five times a year. Do you know how hard it is to steer the conversation toward the topic of the indigenous people of South America? It takes quite a bit of verbal gymnastics. However, I always say, where there’s a will there’s a way. I usually say this to encourage other people to do the things I don’t want to do.

J: I took flute lessons for five weeks in fifth grade. I can still play “Mary Had a Little Lamb” and will do so when I’m in the vicinity of a flute. This doesn’t happen often.

Me: Enough about you. I get crazy when kitchen cabinet doors and drawers are left open. Clutter drives me batty.

J: I leave my dirty socks on the floor.

Me: Isn’t that pretty standard?

J: I also don’t like when people use the word “literally” when they mean “figuratively.”

Me: I always use the word “literally” when I mean “figuratively” and vice versa. Actually I’m not sure if I use the word “figuratively” to mean “literally,” but I do like saying vice versa.

J: I might, just might be the type of person who corrects people when they use the word “literally,” “figuratively.” I also like saying vice versa.

Me: I say “okie dokie artichoke” instead of just “okay,” even to people to who I probably shouldn’t.

J: To whom. I also correct grammatical mistakes.

Me: When I refer to “my sister Sharon,” I always say “my sister Sharon,” never just Sharon, even if you know my sister Sharon and you know I’m talking about her. I do it even though many of my friends have told me point blank that it’s more than a little weird.

J: I get motion sickness and I sunburn easily, you know, because of the red hair and freckles.

Me: I like record-breaking weather; you know — the severest-hurricane-in-the-state, the most-inches-of-rain-in-a-month, etc. When everyone else complains about the weather, I complain too, but I’m secretly happy if it’s the worst snowfall we’ve had in a decade.

J: I live in the Midwest; we break weather records all the time.

Me: Well, that’s certainly in your favor.

J: Okay, I think we can wrap this up. I think we’ve enough information to go on.

Me: Between your distantly related Tante Sora and her distantly related gadol and this weather thing, I think this could really work out. What do you think?

J: Not a piece of celery…

Me: Baking powder?

J: Wow! I was really hoping you’d say that. Yes, yes, I definitely think we would be egg salad together.

So, there you have it. Skip the usual formalities and use the format outlined here.

Just give a comprehensive accounting of all your foibles and peculiarities. Although, if I may be serious for a moment here: Those are truly the things that become the most dear to you. Embracing those whims and inconsistencies is what can make your marriage truly egg salad.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 623)