As we know, Jews leave the womb equipped with a worry reservoir that is filled early and replenished constantly.  We worry about everything.  Worrying is as essential to our well-being as a balanced breakfast.  It’s our duty, our birthright and our most profound satisfaction.  All Jews worry all the time. 

In my new book Jewish as a Second Language, Second Edition, I teach non-Jews who are dating or marrying Jews how to build their worrying skills (as well as other vital skills, such as interrupting, overeating and exaggerating what the doctor said).

But, you’re thinking, I worry fine.  I’m excellent at it.  Why would I, a certified, circumcised, caffeine-intolerant Jewish person, need such lessons?

Here’s why:  As a single Jewish dater, with two sons who are also single Jewish daters, I’ve studied and codified the entire galaxy of date-related worrying.  Now you no longer need to rely on boring no-brainer worries like how long your Right Guard will work (never long enough), or whether your new platform spike gladiators will take you farther than half a block (no).

In the book, Worrying is placed in the chapter on Entertainment.  Don’t bother denying that this fact hits an “oh-yeah” spot in your brain.

So let’s get started on all the exciting new obsessions, “what-ifs,” “why-me’s” and “oy-veys” you can enjoy in your dating life:

Your breath.  Let’s say you’re at a nice Italian restaurant with Seth or Arielle.  You can think:

“Should I tell the waitress to leave out the garlic?”

“Will the shrimp scampi still taste good if they leave it out?”

“What if they put garlic in anyway?”

“What if no one wants to kiss me ever again?”

What did she mean by THAT?  You’re at a concert on your first JDate with Melissa.  She says something thoroughly inconsequential, like, “I hope it’s a nice day tomorrow.”

What to do now?  Magnify this out of all proportion (she can’t wait for the date to end.)   Manufacture nuances Melissa never dreamed of conveying (she hates my shirt, my hair, my car, my entire family).  Keep agonizing until you manage to convince yourself that because of all this stress you are going to get cancer and die.

The outdoors date.  On TV dating shows, the newly matched couple is always shown playing hackysack in a park, surfing or skydiving.  Of course, these pastimes are just for non-Jewish daters.  A Jewish skydiver wouldn’t merely be unusual; it would be an apparition.  A JDate, like any Jewish activity, involves only two activities—sitting and eating.  So picture the two of you at a charmingly natural alfresco restaurant where you sit on tree stumps, use disposable tableware and generally enjoy the delights of the outdoors.  Here you can both do your worrying out loud, as it’s crucial to make the staff aware of anything that limits your dining pleasure:

“Do these bugs sting?”

“What’s with this wind?  My napkin flew away.”

“My seat is damp.  I could catch pneumonia.”

“There are leaves on the table.”

“It’s hot out here.  How do you know when you have heatstroke?”

“I think I just saw a snake.”

But possibly, in spite of all the tragedies you envision, you two JDaters^® might become a couple.  Then a wonderland of worrying together awaits!  You can even engage in the most fun of all — two-person competitive worrying (Jewish Ping-Pong):

Jordan:  “My sister broke her leg.”

Danielle:  “My sister broke her engagement.”

Jordan:  “An engagement isn’t like a leg.”

Danielle:  “Of course not.  A leg heals.”

So there you have it — all the tools you need to enjoy the sport of worrying as daters and as a couple.  Have fun — and be sure to contribute new potential agonies so other readers can share!

Molly Katz is the author of New York as a Second Language and 101 Reasons to Dump  Your Man and Get a Cat. She has also written humorous romance novels and internationally bestselling psychological thrillers. A former stand-up comic who now performs at her PC, she says the hours are better for her complexion, and she doesn’t need to wear as much jewelry. To purchase Jewish as a Second Language, click here.