Maybe I Should Hire a Matchmaker...

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BY JENNIFER SILVERMAN

“Matchmaker, matchmaker make me a match. Find me a find. Catch me a catch.”

So sang the three single daughters of Fiddler on the Roof narrator, Tevye.

The tale was set in the early 1900’s in Russia and provides a peek into just one of the world’s many matchmaking traditions.

Of course, matchmaking was a thing spanning cultures and continents long before Fiddler’s Broadway debut in the swinging 60’s.

Matchmaking has been commonplace in India since way back in the 4th century.

Jewish families began compensating “Yenta’s” - colloquially meaning matchmaking busybodies, with portions of their daughter’s dowries in the 12th century.

Later, in the 1600’s, Great Britian jumped on the bandwagon with a matchmaking agency boom.

The practice has certainly seen its share of ebbs and flows in popularity over the centuries.

Circa 2023, matchmaking seems to be making another comeback. Netflix hosts modern-day Yentas in its productions, Indian Matchmaking and Jewish Matchmaking, and even The Hallmark Channel has gotten in on the act.

A simple Google search offers a plethora of matchmaking services for singles seeking a mate. (Surprisingly, many expert matchmakers boast success rates in the 90th percentile.)

The trend is becoming so en vogue that the number of singles participating in the matchmaking industry is forecast to reach over 7 million by 2027.

For most of us, matchmaking is nothing more than a scene or two in Fiddler on the Roof, not a phenomenon we’ve personally experienced.

In my case, I happened to grow up around a family who observed a generational matchmaking tradition and hired a matchmaker for all six of their children.

Although I found the idea of matchmaking a la Fiddler fascinating, and had a million questions for the family’s oldest daughter, I worried about her when she began the matchmaking process.

She did have a say in her matches, but her voice was not the dominant one. Plus, the process was tremendously hasty. Engagements often occurred after only two chaperoned meetings, followed by a wedding just a few months later.

In retrospect, I wonder if I was too close-minded about whether matchmaking works.

Like most kids, I sided with the norm I knew. However, matchmaking had been a worldwide norm for far longer than I could have comprehended at the time.

After all, a tradition that old wouldn’t still be in existence today if it didn’t produce consistent, positive results, right?

As it turned out, five of the six children in that family went on to live happily ever after with their matched spouses.

So, either this particular household scored an exceptionally primo matchmaker, or there’s actually something to the ancient matchmaking methods – especially considering those astounding success rates of late.

Speaking as a divorcee, maybe leaving the task of finding the right mate up to the experts isn’t so crazy.  

Afterall, I certainly botched the match I made for myself.

Perhaps a Yenta matchmaker would have seen what I missed, and paired me with Mr. Right from the get-go (thereby sparing me the trauma courtesy of Mr. Wrong).

As appealing as the idea of a matchmaker suddenly sounds, the last few lyrics of Fiddler on the Roof's signature tune might just say it all:

“Matchmaker, Matchmaker, plan me no plans. I'm in no rush. Maybe I've learned. Playing with matches a girl can get burned. So, bring me no ring. Groom me no groom. Find me no find. Catch me no catch. Unless he's a matchless match.” 

UPDATE: After I penned this piece, I had a hankering to see what all the matchmaking fuss was about. So, I engaged a modern Yenta matchmaking service myself. Click here to read Part 2 of my matchmaking adventure.)

(P.S. – Okay comrade, let’s talk turkey. Were you just the slightest bit confused about the cover pic for this mini matchmaking memoir? I’ll let you in on my imaginative imagery: The featured gent is head over heels…get it? Plus, I’m partial to photos of shoes…Isn’t everybody?)

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