Just Before the Vort: Aviad’s Match Fell Apart, and the Reason Left Him Shaken

A little while before we were supposed to leave for our fifth meeting, the matchmaker called my mother in an especially excited tone: "Well, get ready, the girl just told me she’s really excited for the vort! She only said that in their family they customarily receive their rabbi’s blessing, and then they close the matter." My mother had already started to tear up with joy. And me? I felt I had found the one who sees my soul (Kikar Magazine) Illustration (photo: B'M) Hello. My name is Aviad. I am 25, from Jerusalem, and I have been in shidduchim since I was 22. I am still in yeshiva and studying seriously, spending most of the day at my shtender, and Torah is the center of my life. But in the evenings, I leave the yeshiva for a few hours to work. At my age, when my friends are already married, the evenings in yeshiva are hard for me. I also wanted to support myself and not be a financial burden on my parents.

In the world of shidduchim, I have always considered myself a realistic person. I do not live in illusions. I understand that marriage is hard work, and that in the end you have to know how to compromise on certain things. I knew, in my heart of hearts, that just as I would have to overlook certain shortcomings in the girl sitting opposite me, there would be girls who would have to compromise on me. And that was fine by me. I accepted it with love and reason. But in every proposal, I always made sure to check the style, to see that they knew who they were talking about, so there would not be surprises.

Then Gili came along. The matchmaker called my mother and said she had an excellent suggestion, really my style. A quality girl, gentle, from a good family. Her name was Gili. That was three weeks ago. We met in the lobby of a small, quiet hotel in the center of the city. "Maybe this is my besharet already," I thought to myself. When she came in, something in the air settled. We talked about general things, about our families, our goals in life, about the Jerusalem I love so much. I returned to the yeshiva that night feeling very good. I felt there was a solid foundation here and a common language. Gili’s appearance was fine, and I moved on.

At the second meeting I decided to lay all my cards on the table with complete honesty. I did not want to sell her illusions or present a version of myself that was not me. I sat opposite her and, in a steady voice, told her about my daily routine, about the intense study sessions in yeshiva and, on the other hand, the hours in the evening when I work. I also told her about the small difficulties in prayer, the inner struggles with concentration, things that every young man of our generation experiences and goes through, but usually is afraid to admit out loud in shidduchim. Gili sat opposite me and showed me that everything was perfectly fine. She smiled a reassuring smile, nodded, and gave me a deep sense that she understood my style completely and that nothing frightened her. She conveyed total acceptance, and that same night made it clear to the matchmaker that she wanted to continue happily.

At the third meeting things really advanced, and by the fourth the dreams were already taking shape as reality. At every stage, Gili showed that she was completely in. There was not the slightest sign of hesitation. And she went further and talked with me about life after marriage, even about the style of trips during bein hazmanim that she wanted to go on. A little while before we were supposed to leave for our fifth meeting, the matchmaker called my mother in an especially excited tone: "Well, get ready, the girl just told me she’s really excited for the vort! She only said that in their family they customarily receive their rabbi’s blessing, and then they close the matter." My mother had already started to tear up with joy. And me? I felt I had found the one who sees my soul. Then came the twist that shook my world.

Two hours later, my phone vibrated. I answered expecting to get the address for the meeting, but on the line was the matchmaker. Her voice was broken, dry, almost frightened. "Aviad..." she searched for words and was very confused. Finally she said, "I don’t know how to tell you this, but they called it off." At that moment I felt as if someone had hit me hard in the stomach and taken all the air out of me. The world went silent. "What? What happened all of a sudden?" I stammered. "Just two hours ago she said she was excited for the vort and was only asking her rabbi!" The matchmaker muttered something about the rabbi telling them to drop it immediately because it was not a fit. I shattered into pieces. I sat there, outside the yeshiva, and cried out of deep frustration. I felt defective. I felt that my honesty had turned into a weapon against me, and that their rabbi had marked me as second rate just because I work a few hours in the evening.

But something about this story did not add up for me. The extreme contrast between the "excited for the vort" and the immediate, cold cutoff would not let me rest. I decided to act, and through a close friend who has a close connection to the house of that famous rabbi, I tried to find out exactly what had been said there. When the answer came, my shock turned into something entirely different. It turned out that no one had spoken to the rabbi. My name never crossed the threshold of his door, and he had never heard of this match in his life. Even the rabbi himself does not know the family, and they are not among those who consult him. It was all a facade. The truth was much more complicated and painful: they simply looked for a way to cancel it by using the sacred concept of "daat Torah."

That thought does not leave me. I simply refuse to believe that Gili was capable of conducting such a double game, certainly not after we had already spoken with complete openness about life after the wedding and everything was closed between us. It is hard for me to denigrate her that much. Not long ago I received information. The one who led this move was her father, it is no coincidence that he was the one who volunteered to go and "receive the rabbi’s blessing." By all indications, the father simply panicked about "what will people say," and decided to bury the match through the invented story of "daat Torah." Still, my heart is hurt and bleeding. Not only because she is not continuing with me, but more because of this crazy facade that went on for weeks. "Even if your father put pressure on you, why did you need to make me feel until the last moment that everything was perfect?" The matchmaker could not bear it, she called the girl again and asked the difficult questions that needed to be asked. Unfortunately, she did not get answers. It still hurts me, the great pain is also the lack of care. I felt they used my truth and then threw me away. Even now I ask, "Why, why give me the feeling that everything was already sealed, why talk to me about after the wedding as if the only thing left was the vort?" I still cannot understand it.

Three insights are engraved on my heart for the girl: Do not build illusions and do not give in to facades. This first insight is directed straight at Gili and at anyone who is in her position. If you decide to go forward with a relationship and say an hour earlier that you are "excited for the vort," you are bound by that truth. Feeding a young man illusions and total confidence when the ground beneath you is shaking is a serious injury. And if your parents are pressuring you, you at least have the duty to end it honestly from the start. Using lies about "daat Torah" to cover family cowardice is an act that leaves deep, bleeding wounds on the other side.

Honesty is a pearl, reveal it only to someone who can hold it. In the second meeting I opened my heart מתוך תמימות, מתוך אמונה that integrity builds connection. Today I understand that honesty is a precious sacred tool. Aviad of today will continue to be an upright and honest young man, but I will learn to reveal my depth gradually. First I will check whether the girl in front of me is an independent, mature person with backbone, or just a puppet on strings of social dictates.

The real blessing is to remain true to who you are. When I heard that "the rabbi ruled" that I was "problematic," for one moment I wanted to change, to lie, to hide the fact that I work in the evenings. But today, now that the truth has been revealed, I understand that could have been the disaster of my life. My blessing is to remain exactly who I am, a yeshiva boy who studies with all his strength, but also knows his capabilities. My right girl, the true match designated for me from Heaven, will be a girl who sees the evening work hours as evidence of a strong character, not a reason for rejection. She will choose me for who I am, and our home will be built on pure truth. Sometimes the doors that slam shut in our faces are not a punishment, they are life’s way of protecting us from places and people who cannot contain who we really are.

And you, dear readers, thank you for taking the time to read my pain. With your permission, I want to raise two issues for discussion here, and I would really like to hear your perspective, especially from those who know the world of shidduchim closely: Where is the line between honoring parents and your relationship and future? If a girl feels that this is the right boy for her, should she fight for her happiness against the family, or is surrendering to pressure from her father, even when it comes from places of ego and social honor, the right step? Would you expect her to stand her ground, or is that too much for a 20 to 22 year old girl? (Or is this even a halachic question?)

The culture of "what will people say" versus the reality on the ground: why is a 25 year old yeshiva boy who studies seriously most of the day perceived as second rate because he works a few hours at night? Beyond the desire not to become a financial burden, there is a simple reality, most of the boys my age are already married. It is very mentally difficult for a boy my age to stay in the yeshiva in the evenings when his friends are no longer there and the environment is much younger than he is. Going out to work is my sanity, my responsibility, so why does the public prefer a "display groom" over a real young man who takes responsibility for his life?

What would you have done in my place? And how do you think one can pick up the pieces and move on to the next meeting without losing trust in people? I would be happy to read your comments. Aviad