DATING FORUM

Question

I would like to bring up an issue that I’ve recently had, which I’m sure you’ve probably experienced. And I would like to hear your thoughts.

I set two people up on a date. But they went out via another shadchan and didn’t tell me. I found out about it through another source. It didn’t work out for them (and maybe that’s why they never told me), but I still thought it was inappropriate that they didn’t keep me in the loop. That’s the gist of it.

I don’t run dating events or make Shabbos dinners, but it’s something I’ve heard about from people who do, and this also happens to them. People meet at dinners or events and then, Baruch Hashem, it works out for them, but they never inform the original organizers. Even if they don’t pay shidduch gelt to the original meal arranger (especially if there’s another shadchan involved) at the very least they should inform the person who organized the event where they originally met.

In my case, the couple got the suggestion from me, then arranged to exchange résumés through a shadchan that the girl wanted to use. At that point they went out, and while it didn’t work out for them in the end, I wish they would have informed me about the date.

Response

You are touching on something that sits at the intersection of halacha, derech eretz, and basic menschlichkeit, and unfortunately, that intersection is often neglected in the shidduch world. Yes, I have touched upon this topic at various times, and it most certainly has happened to me many times, and to other shadchanimas well. I understand how you feel, because no matter how many times it happens, each new experience feels like a knife to the heart.

To validate your point, just recently I became aware of a shidduch that came about via an event I single-handedly organized several years ago. When I recently learned through a third party that a couple who had attended one of my events is now expecting their second child, since I knew the young lady’s mother, I decided to reach out to her to confirm this news so I could wish her a belated mazel tov. Just for backstory, I had originally called the mother of this girl to inform her about the event so she could encourage her daughter to join as my personal guest.

The mother verified that it was true, but became irate that I found out about it! She insisted that I tell her the name of the party who told me. She then brazenly stressed that her daughter and son-in-law met at my event but that I had nothing to do with them getting married; therefore, I’m not the shadchan. In response, I assured her that my reason for the call was not to ask for shadchanus gelt, or for credit of any kind, just to share in the joy of knowing that yet another shidduch emerged from the sincere effort, tefillos, and heart that goes into creating these shidduch gatherings, and that’s why her daughter was fortunate to meet her bashert.

I wished the mother a belated mazel tov and b’shaah tovah to the couple on the upcoming simcha. I must admit that after I hung up the phone, I didn’t feel good about the conversation. And if I had known in advance that it would go that way, I never would have called her. Prior to that story, in circumstances like yours, I redt a shidduch to a couple, and after I arranged for résumés to be exchanged, they decided to use a different shadchan. That relationship ended too; nevertheless, I felt just as let down as you feel.

To a person who is not involved in the world of shidduchim, they might not get it. But I totally understand where you’re coming from. It’s a breakdown in transparency, gratitude, and respect for the human beings who invest themselves—often quietly and without compensation—in helping others build a bayis ne’eman. Let’s be very clear about one foundational point: The obligation to inform the original source is not about money, success, or outcome. It’s about integrity.

In your case, both individuals received the idea from you. That alone establishes you as the source of the shidduch, regardless of how their résumés were exchanged or which shadchan facilitated logistics afterward. The fact that another shadchan was used—at the request of one party—does not erase the original source. Nor does it absolve the parties from the basic decency of saying, “Just so you know, we’re pursuing this.” Even if it was brief and didn’t work out, or even if there were mitigating circumstances.

When the person who organizes a Shabbos meal or event and finds out “a different way” that the couple is going out, it sends the message that they are unworthy of acknowledgement. And that hurts, not because of ego, but because shidduchim are not transactional for those who do this sincerely. They are personal. They involve thought, care, tefillah, and often emotional risk.

People who suggest shidduchim or organize targeted singles events don’t do so casually. They look at middos, hashkafah, family dynamics, timing, and emotional readiness. To be cut out of the loop entirely—particularly when the idea originated through them—feels less like an oversight and more like an erasure.

That it didn’t work out is a justification that comes up frequently, and it’s worth addressing directly. There is a mistaken belief that only success requires disclosure. In fact, the opposite is often true. Informing someone early or even after it ends preserves trust and dignity. Had you been told, even after the fact, you would likely have understood. You acknowledge that there were mitigating details. Most shadchanim and arrangers are far more understanding than people assume.

You also raise a strong and often overlooked point about people who host Shabbos meals, events, or other informal gatherings. These individuals open their homes, spend money, take social risks, and carry emotional responsibility for outcomes. When people meet in these spaces, and Baruch Hashem it progresses, the undisputable fact is that organizer is at the very least entitled to be informed and acknowledged. It’s about honoring effort, and when that courtesy is skipped, the message becomes: We took what we needed and moved on.

People often avoid this uncomfortable topic because it is awkward, layered, and emotionally charged. It involves no dramatic wrongdoing, no malicious intent, and often no clear halachic violation. But it leaves people hurt and mistrustful as it quietly erodes the good will in a system that depends almost entirely on human decency. This is not a rare occurrence. It happens to shadchanim, informal connectors, rabbanim, rebbetzins, friends, neighbors, and community members who open their homes, make introductions, or quietly plant an idea.

This is not about shidduch gelt. And it is critical that I restate this clearly because confusion in this area fuels much of the defensiveness around this topic: the issue is not about money fundamentally. In many of these cases, no shadchanus would have been expected or even accepted. In other cases, the halachic entitlement may be unclear or legitimately shared. But even when there is no financial claim whatsoever, there remains a moral and interpersonal obligation. That obligation is called hakaras hatov. Acknowledging the person who originated an idea is not a demand for credit; it is recognition of effort, care, and involvement. When a couple or their parents withhold that recognition, it creates an emotional injury that has nothing to do with compensation. When an idea originates with someone, that fact does not disappear simply because another shadchan becomes involved at a later stage. Using a different shadchan does not erase the source. It does not retroactively rewrite the original story. And it certainly does not justify cutting the original person out of the loop entirely.

In your case, where the shidduch ultimately did not work out, one of the most common rationalizations for silence is outcome-based. However, derech eretz is not contingent on success, and hakaras hatov is not earned retroactively. In fact, informing the original source when it doesn’t work out is often easier and more appropriate. It affirms the person’s role and prevents unnecessary hurt when the truth inevitably surfaces. Most people who suggest shidduchim understand that not every idea will succeed. What they struggle with is being excluded from the narrative altogether.

People who suggest shidduchim—whether professionally or informally—often carry more emotional weight than is visible on the surface. When someone proceeds without acknowledgment, the message received is not, “We chose a different shadchan,” but rather: “Your role didn’t matter.” Even when that message was never intended, impact matters more than intent.

Community members who host Shabbos meals, singles events, or informal gatherings create an environment where people can meet. They invest time, money, energy, and emotional labor. When relationships emerge from this effort and the organizer is never informed, it sends a similar message.

“I just wanted you to know that something came out of that meal,” can mean more than people realize. It validates the effort and encourages people to continue opening their homes and hearts to others. When people feel overlooked or taken advantage of, they stop suggesting. They stop hosting. They stop involving themselves. And then we wonder why fewer people are willing to help. Shidduchim thrive on trust, goodwill, and generosity. When those are eroded the entire system weakens.

If we want a shidduch culture built on integrity rather than transaction, we must remember this simple truth: Ideas do not appear in a vacuum. They come from people. And people deserve to be acknowledged.

My final word of chizuk to you and anyone in a similar situation is: Your efforts matter. Your sensitivity is a strength, not a flaw, because your disappointment is a sign that you care. You are not diminished because others failed to act with courtesy. On the contrary, your pain is a sign of a heart that is still open and still caring. May Hashem grant you the strength to continue with wisdom and discernment, the ability to protect your heart without closing it, and the comfort of knowing that every sincere step you take to help build a bayis neeman is a zechus that endures far beyond what the eye can perceive. 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].