BlogElul 3: Search

I spent the bulk of my twenties actively involved in what my friend Rabbi Tiferet Berenbaum calls a “basearch” – the quest for the perfect life partner, for a relationship that is bashert – Yiddish for “meant to be."

Many people told me that I would find the right guy as soon as I stopped looking for him.

Sure enough, they were right.

Never in my wildest dreams did I ever expect to meet this person at a Broadway show.

Since moving to Milwaukee, I’ve made it a habit to binge on Broadway shows each time I visit New York. In anticipation of a trip home for my brother’s wedding last August, I bought tickets to A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder two weeks before it won Tony Award for Best Musical. I knew that it would soon become a hot ticket, and I wanted to make sure I had a chance to see it.

On August 28, 2014 at 7pm, I had no idea my life was about to change.

My friend Whitney and I had nosebleed seats in the balcony, which were perfectly adequate until the actors started to do some shtick in the audience. At that point, we couldn’t see a thing.

We weren’t nearly as frustrated as a certain young man sitting behind us.

In the middle of the song, this young man tried take the empty seat next to me in order to see better. I told him off.

“Not in the middle of a song,” I hissed.

He waited until after the song to switch seats. At intermission, he apologized profusely.

And then we kept talking.

His name was Dan.

I remember learning that he went to Brandeis and confirmed my suspicions that he was, in fact, a nice Jewish boy.

I remember playing Jewish geography and discovering that he went to law school and is still close friends with the boy I shared my Bat Mitzvah with.

I remember asking him what brought him to the theater that night. It’s not often you see a gentleman in his early thirties attending a Broadway show by himself. Turns out that his parents instilled in him a love of musical theater and most of his friends don’t share this interest. He is perfectly content with this and often goes to the theater by himself.

I admired that.

I remember that he didn’t flinch when I told him I was a cantor. On the contrary, the idea excited him. He told me that Cantor Lawrence Avery z’l prepared him for his Bar Mitzvah at Temple Beth El in New Rochelle and that his father has a vast collection of Yiddish music.

(Two weeks later he would send me a mix CD filled with his favorite Yiddish songs.)

I remember wondering how I managed to live in New York City for seven years without crossing paths with this guy, especially since he was a regular at many of the young adult minyanim on the Upper West Side.

I don’t remember much of the second act of the show. Instead, I sat there and processed what had just felt like an out-of-body experience.

After the show, Whitney helped to facilitate an exchange of numbers by pulling us into a (reasonably) quiet corner of the sidewalk. She made him promise to call me.

“Oh I definitely will!” he said.

He didn’t call. But he did send a text message the next morning. In this day and age, that counts.

“Hey Lauren it was a pleasure meeting you yesterday. Serendipity can be an unexpected and wonderful thing! Enjoy your brother’s wedding and know that one day I’d like to hear you sing!”

And thus began a novel full of text message exchanges.

Unfortunately, we were not able to meet up again that weekend because he traveled to Niagara Falls and I was busy with wedding stuff.

In the meantime, I looked him up on Facebook. We had nine mutual friends, including people in my regular social circle – not just acquaintances.

I did what any modern girl would do: I vetted him with a few people.

“I can’t believe you never met before,” exclaimed one close friend of mine.

We’re sure that at some point in time we were at the same party or Shabbat dinner. Perhaps our paths crossed unknowingly, maybe even when we were each actively searching for a significant other.

Instead, our love story was meant to have a much more dramatic beginning: An old fashioned Broadway romance, so to speak.

If meeting at a Broadway show wasn’t enough of a fairytale, our first date was to a Billy Joel concert.

Dan and a friend had tickets to see Billy Joel at Madison Square Garden. Dan asked me if I would be interested in coming to New York to see it with him if he could buy his friend’s ticket for me.

I said yes. His friend said yes.

The concert was on a Wednesday – my day off. The stars were aligned.

On September 17, 2014 – one week before Rosh Hashanah, in the midst of my craziest time of the year – I flew to New York for just under 24 hours.  

I knew that there was something special about Dan when he offered to give me space during the High Holy Days. “I know how busy you are right now,” he said.

Without me saying anything, he innately understood how important this time of year was for me. Strange as it may seem, his offer to give me space was exactly the kind of support I needed.

I found myself looking forward to my Facetime conversations with Dan as a way to decompress after long days of choir rehearsals and services.

After Sukkot, he came to Milwaukee for the first time.

Since then, we have both been racking up the frequent flyer miles – thank goodness Southwest flies cheaply and often between MKE and LGA! 

Our “basearch” was over.