A Kosher Dating Odyssey: One Former Texas Baptist's Quest for a Naughty & Nice Jewish Girl by van Wallach Page B

other dates, each conversation had its own rhythm. What do you do, where do you live, what do you enjoy doing in your spare time (I asked that, but nobody asked me). When the conversation lingered too long on a single topic, like our children, I asked another question. Several times I had to explain the origins of my highly un-Jewish name, Van.
    I kept my eye on the approaching women as the whistle-signal led to another round of musical chairs. You see, I recognized two of the women. One I had dated a few times several years earlier, and another I had emailed on JDate and never received a reply. I had contacted her in recent weeks after she changed her picture—I told her I liked it—but I never heard back.
    I rolled into a date with the no-contact woman first. I recognized her name, profession and look from her profile, where she had recently placed an appealing new picture. It had to be her. We did the usual getting-to-know-all-about-you chatter, then I said, “You know, I have written to you on JDate and you never responded.” She explained she had had computer problems, and other people had also been concerned when they didn’t hear back from her. Our conversation had more of an edge to it, based on a history, albeit one-sided one. I marked her a “yes.”
    My very next date was the woman I met on before. We went out a few times; then I got involved with someone else. She also remembered me, and even mentioned an old screen name. We knew enough to get caught up on work and kid issues, and that felt good. I marked her a “yes,” also.
    I kept moving around. The sound level rose, and after more than a dozen dates my energy flagged. I was relieved when I reached the last one, with a woman I had spoken to during the social hour.
    At home, I logged on and cast my votes. I marked yes for four, no for the others (I would have marked only three, but two women had the same name and I couldn’t tell from my notes which I was interested in, so I marked both). I couldn’t fake enthusiasm for women where I felt no connection. I could tell when I would be interested, on emotional, social and, yes, physical grounds. After all the back and forth JDate often involves, an in-person meeting and a chance to see and hear really can make a difference. A day later, I had three “yes” matches—the three I wanted. The confidence-building Jerry Garcia tie had worked its magic.
    The evening yielded one date, with the woman I had written to before. We had lunch in Greenwich Village and walked around outdoor art displays. Her photo had benefited from professional-level makeup, so she didn’t look as I expected, and our personalities didn’t fit at all. So that was that. I never tried HurryDate again.
    However, the concept makes lots of sense for people who step away from their computer to meet people in the real world.
    “Speed Dating, or, The Shock of the Real” was originally published in JMag, the online magazine for JDate.com.

Chapter 8

Brief Encounters, or,

Ships Colliding in the Night
    Compared to a painting style, online dating is more Jackson Pollock paint splotch than grand sweeping canvas. The big picture consisted of a mess of overlapping contacts, conversations, encounters, hopes, disappointments, laughter, driveway embraces, coincidences, betrayals and actual relationships. Some never got past an excruciating first meeting. Often nothing happened after a ho-hum first phone conversation. Some connections never got the chance to bloom or go as far as I hoped.
    Some of my favorite stories don’t fit neatly into a big-theme chapter. Something happened, a smile flashed and faded, I chased a purr that guttered into silence, I formed a friendship that has endured. Here, some dispatches from the love-war zone:
“Go ahead, ask me.”

I wrote to one woman who sounded intelligent and committed to her beliefs, and I liked her pictures. I heard nothing. Then she was gone from JDate. About eight months later her profile returned