When she arrived at my friend’s house, her hair was dyed red and she was dressed in a black suit: very Agent Scully. We went out for Thai food with my friend and his wife.
We would chat with each other online virtually every day while I was in college, and even after I graduated. Before long the site gave me a listing of potential Jewish candidates.
Though I was excited by these possibilities at first, the resulting dates could best be compared to episodes.
My parents liked Alicia, but not the fact that she wasn’t Jewish.
My paternal grandparents were more concerned; I promised them that I would only marry a Jewish girl.
She was also unbendingly ethical, deeply scholarly, and emotionally supportive—virtues I’d always believed essential in a prospective girlfriend or wife.
Since she wasn’t Jewish, though, a relationship with her didn’t seem possible; I thought of her as simply a good friend. I created an online dating profile on e Harmony, hoping that its mystical personality matching system would somehow do the job that I had proven unable to accomplish on my own.
As a child, I grew up in Conservative congregations in Georgia, New Jersey, and Minnesota, was educated in Jewish day schools from kindergarten through fifth grade, and spent most of my childhood summers at Jewish summer camps.
As an adult I have written for Jewish newspapers and teach in a synagogue. She would usually say that she was “not an atheist” or that she was a non-practicing Methodist.
By the end of the weekend, we were officially dating.