You’d think through my many years of working professionally to combat anti-Semitism in the nonprofit sector and Jewish philanthropy, I’d have come to certain realizations much sooner than I have.
After the Charlottesville white nationalist rally and all that accompanied that incomprehensible August day, something washed over me. In a matter of seconds, my Judaism deepened. My dedication to living more Jewishly had been expanding over the past several years, but one thing I continued to do, was to date non-Jewish men. On August 13th of this year, I made the decision to stop dating non-Jewish men. For the very first time in my life, my commitment to Jewish continuity became infallible and more powerful than my libido.
And speaking of my libido, I have had a pretty interesting dating history. I have enjoyed (and been horrified) by a myriad of different men – An inclusive “All are Welcome” type of philosophy (and accompanying sandwich board signage), included men of various races, religions, heights, weights and zodiac signs. Most of my previous dating choices were NOT Jewish. One former Catholic man, turned guru worshiper, claimed he could levitate. While I never actually saw him levitate, I was in a relationship with him for seven years. Are you questioning my judgment? Yeah, me too.
I chalk it up to being young, vulnerable and desperate to avoid facing trauma I suffered as a child and the secretive pain that went along with it.
When I was 19 years old, I think I fell in love for the very first time and perhaps one of the only times in my life. Ironically, this man was one of the few Jewish men I’d dated. We were together for several years until he entered medical school. To this day, our break up in my early twenties included some of the most gaping and longest-term pain I have ever experienced. I mourned this relationship for several years.
I have vivid memories of listening to U2’s, “With or Without You,” over and over, as I sobbed about the only man I would ever love. As I wept, I would look at my ex’s photos, but also took to looking at Bono’s photos. I thought they were both gorgeous and resembled each other. (They looked NOTHING alike.) My vast imagination would then transfer my adoration from my ex, to Bono. I welcomed the refocus from my ex to this hot U2 front man. Plus, Bono wouldn’t have left me had he gone to medical school. Bono would have answered my 28 calls and 85 letters. (per hour). Bono could and would serenade me and wipe my tears away.
But, then it hit me.
Bono isn’t Jewish. Bono is Irish.
Bono may not be circumcised.
Without getting too personal about my historically colorful escapades, I will just remind you that I have experienced ALL types of men and I do mean, ALL.
Anyhow, Jewish men make the cut, because I choose to live Jewishly. My children need to be raised in a Jewish home. We must grow and gather strength and conviction to obliterate anti-Semitism. I will not stand idly by for another moment of Holocaust naysayers, bigots or any other individuals who seek to harm us.
So, line up single, Jewish men. This 50 year old divorcee is committed to one of you and if time passes and I find absolutely no one, I will always have Bono to listen to while I wait for my bashert.