It was a typical weeknight. Jon Stewart had just ended. My bag was by the door and my cellphone was charging. I walked into my study to check email for the final time that day. Communications@Jdate.com had written me letting me know that I had mail. I logged on and noticed that a new guy had contacted me. He was sort of cute, but he wrote “not at all” for “I keep kosher” and “never” for “I go to synagogue,” so I lost interest quick. I am a rookie Conservative rabbi and there are few things which are deal breakers for me; minimal Jewish observance is a must.

Nevertheless the man pursued me and we had rapidly progressed to the telephone phase of the relationship. He knew from the start that I was a Conservative rabbi. One of my Jdate pictures shows me in tallit (prayer shawl) and tefillin (phylacteries). Our relationship grew at a nice pace. We saw each other a couple times during the week and on weekends. He understood that I actively choose to spend Friday night with my friends in ways that did not require spending money or travelling.

Then, during dinner at a neighborhood restaurant, about seven weeks into the relationship, he asked what I had done at work that day. I described to him the joy I had experienced creating a curriculum centering on interpersonal relations in the Wilderness as well as the human-Divine paradigm. Then we changed the subject and talked about our families and other things you discuss when you are still getting to know somebody.

We left the restaurant and went back to his place. I thought we were going to go watch a classic eighties DVD, but instead he asked me to sit on the couch and ‘talk.’ He told me had that queasy feeling in his stomach. The spark had fizzled. I was shocked. Not angry, just confused about where this was all coming from. Things had been progressing forward in my mind. He had expressed interest in spending Shabbat with me and we had joked the other day about how I tie myself up with leather every morning. I was completely confused. Then I asked him a rather bold question.

“Are you intimidated by me?”

He said yes. He said I was so intelligent and knew so much and was so passionate about Jewish life that he could no longer be with me.

I wanted to reply, “Dude, you picked up a RABBI on JDATE,” but I held my tongue. I had my integrity and my dignity as well as my reputation to protect.

I left his apartment, got in the car and called my mother.

This whole online Jewish dating concept is bizarre. I have learned time and time again that just because I am on Jdate, with the J standing for Jewish, there is no guarantee that I am going to find someone who is at the same level as me Jewishly.

I believe in God and Torah and the importance of our ancient tradition. I am a teacher of that tradition and spend lots of time and energy educating myself in it. I will not compromise my values. So what should I do? My mother suggests that I go back online and a great guy will come along. I’m not so sure. There are a lot of guys out there who want someone who is Jewish, but maybe in name only. Being observant scares them just as much as it scares me when I go to dinner with someone and he orders shrimp.

It says in the beginning of the book of Genesis, soon after Adam was created that “it is not good for person to be alone.” What am I do to? I am in my thirties and have no helpmate or partner to share my life with. I really do not think Jdate is the place for me after all. It has been suggested that the places for me to meet likeminded people are the places where I already spend time. For now, most of the people at the minyan (synagogue) I go to are coupled up. I guess the best option is for me to wait until the summer, when new people move to town.

I refuse to think that I have not met the man of my dreams because I am a rabbi. No, I think it is because I am picky. And with the divorce rate as high as it, I reserve the right to be picky and kvetch about my singlehood both at the same time.

Tick tick tick.