The Dating Game

They say there’s no bigger nightmare than starting to go out, You’re playing emotional mind games that involve another’s feelings, no doubt. Your hopes atop a roller coaster, but soon to be set in loops Where you’ll have to make good conversation again, over your cream-of-broccoli soup.

Your entire day revolves around coming home at four, Because naturally you’ll need time before the guy walks through the door. You just came from the beauty salon, your hair nothing short of “done.” Yet still, you’ve got much to do before that special night’s begun.

The day progresses slowly until your pre-arranged time nears You arrange your schedule accordingly, so that nothing interferes. You’ve got to take along your handbag and turn your cell phone’s mode to “quiet” As you’re about to grab some cookies, you remember you’re on a diet.

While you’re getting ready you try to envision how your second date will go But from experience, you’re aware that till it happens, you’ll never really know. You have thoughts of how the last date went, and the possibility of the next In the realm of your small mind, you’re overwhelmingly perplexed.

Does he think that I’m too short for him? Will he like my brand new dress? And heavens help the humidity level or my hair will be a mess! Sympathetic nervous system activated, your epinephrine levels rise As you slather on some makeup on your lips, your cheeks, your eyes.

“Should I take these very high heels and risk falling on my face? But these flats are just too simple, and will seem very out of place? Last week, when I measured up to him, he seemed 5’11” or so, And with that thought, you begin reminiscing about the first date a week ago

He was exceptionally interesting to talk to; our conversation bore no lull But he mentioned he likes soccer, which I find extremely dull. He took me to the Marriott, the typical hotel, you see Perhaps he’s just not creative enough for me?

Was the shadchan not careful enough when she redd it just six short weeks ago? On what criteria was she judging me and just how did she know? But he matches my specifications well, goes to school and learns half a day And we know he’s a solid boy, or at least that’s what references say.

They asked very pertinent questions as they checked us through and through How long is her mother’s sheitel; how high a heel is her shoe? How often does she go to the gym? How long does she wear her skirts? Which camps did her brother attend; how does he wear his shirts?

Suddenly, you realize, there’s an hour left, your brain is pounding with thoughts So you decide to review some chemistry, to make you a bit less distraught. But with the word “chemistry” before you, and all those molecules in sight You wonder, “Will our relationship become more molecular, and how will we bond tonight?”

The clock strikes six, the boy arrives, and takes you out to eat You spend three hours shmoozing about the weather, school, and your friends who are “oh so sweet.” You discuss things you enjoy, and those that you find a bit grim But how do I know if I’m compatible enough to spend the rest of my life with him?

During the car ride home he says he had fun, and that the date went extremely well You reciprocate, of course, but can never really tell. How can you compare it with the others? Was it better or was it worse? And you think of the many comparisons, while continuing to converse.

You return home, and your mind judges the evening as neither good nor great It was nothing amazing, or too terrible, just a “mediocre date.” Confused, you make your way to bed, while thinking into the night Wondering, “How do I know if he’s for me; just how do I know if he’s right?”