DATING FORUM
Question
I’ve been doing shadchanus for only five years, but I’m already burnt out. I try my best to help them, but the singles have no middos. They don’t answer when I redt a shidduch they’re not interested in, and sometimes when they do, they’re so rude about it. If they go out with someone and then they’re not interested in going out again, they keep me waiting for an answer. They just ignore me, and I have to keep calling them. I never know how to respond to the other side, and it makes me look bad. Some don’t even give shadchanus gelt. There are some singles who don’t invite their shadchan to their wedding. I want to continue doing this mitzvah, but I need some chizuk from you. I try so hard. I really put my whole heart into helping them.
Response
Thank you for opening your heart and sharing your feelings so honestly. Everything you wrote is real, and you are far from alone. The work of a shadchan today is unbelievably demanding, emotionally, spiritually, and even physically. You give your time, energy, patience, and your heart, often without thanks, without compensation, and sometimes without even the basic courtesy of a timely response. That is draining for anyone, and it makes perfect sense that you’re feeling burnt out.
But please remember: you are doing a mitzvah that not everyone in Klal Yisrael has the strength to take on. You’re standing in a place where people’s lives, futures, and generations literally unfold because of your efforts. Even when the singles don’t show appreciation, Hashem sees every phone call, every message, every drop of effort. Nothing you do goes unnoticed in Shamayim.
As for the middos of the singles—yes, it’s challenging. Many are overwhelmed, anxious, scared to be disappointed, or unsure of how to communicate. It doesn’t excuse bad behavior, but it does help explain where some singles are coming from. And often the shadchan becomes the person who absorbs all that emotional confusion. It’s not always because they don’t respect you; it’s because they don’t know how to navigate the shidduch world.
Still, your feelings matter, and you deserve the kavod of decency, clear communication, timely answers, and appreciation. It might help to set gentle expectations upfront. Such things like, “Please respond within 24 hours” or “If you’re not interested, just say so; it’s totally fine.” It might sound odd, but sometimes people simply need to be told how to behave.
It’s understandable that a shadchan feels hurt when they aren’t invited to weddings that they help bring about. The shidduch that a shadchan makes is deeply personal, whether the shidduch comes about because you thought of the idea or because the couple met due to your organizing a singles event. When you invest time, heart, and emotional energy into bringing two people together, it’s natural to want to be included in their simcha. The feeling isn’t about wanting honor; it’s about wanting to witness the happy ending you helped to create. It’s about closure, gratitude, and the joy of seeing the fruit of your labor.
But the reality is that couples don’t always think about the shadchan in the whirlwind of wedding planning. Hopefully it is not always intentional; it’s simply that life moves quickly. Recognizing this can help soften the hurt. And please don’t underestimate the zechus you accumulate. The couples who do invite theirshadchan to their wedding, that’s the world reminding you that all your effort is planting seeds, and some of those seeds grow into entire families.
As for shadchanus gelt, many don’t realize the halachic and menschlich expectation until the shadchanmentions it, so don’t be embarrassed to bring it up when appropriate. It’s not considered payment; it’s hakaras hatov. Many shadchanim (myself included) don’t usually bring it up, but truthfully, they should!
You are doing holy work. Even when it’s hard, even when it’s thankless, even when you feel invisible, your impact is eternal. You’re not just redting shidduchim. You are building homes in Klal Yisrael.
If you need chizuk, here it is: Don’t measure your success by the reactions of singles. Measure it by the fact that Hashem entrusted you with this mission to partner with Him. That in itself says everything about your worth. Your frustrations are often discussed again and again in quiet conversations, whispered at simchas, shared between friends, and written in the late-night messages that only a few people ever see: “I’m burnt out. I want to keep doing this mitzvah, but I can’t anymore.” You wrote from a place of exhaustion, frustration, and heartbreak: And so, my response is written not just for you, but for every shadchan who feels the same.
Few people truly understand the weight a shadchan carries. A shadchan who practices shadchanus lishma and doesn’t just click buttons on her phone to singles she doesn’t even know is not “just redtingshidduchim.” He or she is navigating complex personalities, fears, insecurities, hopes, and expectations all at once. They become the negotiator, the therapist, the crisis manager, the communicator, the mashgiach for middos, and the emotional shock absorber for two people who may not even appreciate the effort.
Singles don’t respond? The shadchan takes the hit. Someone waits a long time before giving feedback? The shadchan is stuck in the middle, embarrassed, and apologizing for something they did not cause. Someone says “I’m not interested” but disappears for days? The shadchan becomes the one who looks unreliable. A couple dates a few times and then breaks it off? The shadchan delivers the news, absorbs the disappointment, and begins again. It is the kind of emotional labor that drains even the strongest, most generous people. And yet, many shadchanim keep going, because they care. Because they believe in building Jewish homes. Because deep down, they know that every effort counts, even when the results are invisible.
I hear from many shadchanim today who say the same thing: “The singles have no middos. They don’t know how to respond properly. They disappear.” But here is a perspective that eases some of that sting: Most single people today are not trying to be rude; they are overwhelmed. They are afraid of hurting someone. They are afraid of committing too quickly, or too slowly. They are afraid of making mistakes. They are afraid of disappointing parents, mentors, friends, and yes, the shadchan too. Some are juggling work, therapy, pressure from home, loneliness, and the constant scrutiny of a shidduch system that leaves them feeling exposed and uncertain. Please understand, I am not trying to excuse bad behavior. But I hope it helps explain the silence you get from some of the singles that hurt you with their behavior. The truth is, when people are anxious or insecure, they avoid uncomfortable conversations. That avoidance, unfortunately, gets taken out on the shadchan.
I would like to believe that it’s not that they don’t respect you. Rather, it’s that they don’t know how to handle the emotional complexity of dating, and so they freeze, they disappear, or they wait too long. Unfortunately, the shadchan ends up carrying the emotional maturity that the singles themselves haven’t yet developed.
I will now express the vulnerability of a shadchan that no one dares to express. There is a unique loneliness in being a shadchan. People come to you when they need something. They lean on you for support, time, and effort, often for free. They expect you to be endlessly patient, endlessly understanding, endlessly available. Who supports you? Who asks you how your day was, whether you got treated respectfully, or whether you’re okay? A shadchan stands at the center of a community’s deepest hopes, yet often remains invisible, receiving praise only when things go right, and blame when anything goes wrong. That loneliness is real. It deserves recognition and compassion.
But here is the chizuk you deserve. Despite everything, the burnout, the disrespect, the delays, the disappointment, there is something extraordinary about what you do. You are doing a mitzvah that shapes eternity. When you redt a shidduch, even if it goes nowhere, you partner with Hashem in the creation of Jewish families. You plant seeds you never see grow. You water fields that one day bloom into future generations. You stand behind the scenes of the most beautiful moments in a person’s life. You carry the challenges, so that others can find their happiness.
Chazal tell us there are few mitzvos more beloved in Shamayim than helping someone find their zivug. Even when the singles do not say “thank you.” Even when they forget the effort you put in. Even when they walk away without acknowledgment. Hashem does not forget. He sees every message. Every phone call. Every tear. Every moment of emotional labor. And every single one is written in your personal book of mitzvos and chassadim. Hold onto those moments. They are reminders that your work has deep impact, even when the feedback is scarce. And if you still want to continue, that means your neshamah is shining brightly. You have a strength many people will never understand. You are doing Hashem’s work in the purest sense, connecting neshamos and building Klal Yisrael one match at a time. n
Baila Sebrow is president of Neshoma Advocates, communications and recruitment liaison for Sovri-Beth Israel, executive director of Teach Our Children, and a shadchanis and shidduch consultant. Baila also produces and hosts The Definitive Rap podcast for 5townscentral.com, vinnews.com, Israel News Talk Radio, and WNEW FM 102.7 FM HD3, listenline & talklinenetwork.com. She can be reached at [email protected].
