A Rachmanis: Letters of a Single Man

by David Kilimnick

Dear Dave,
I noticed that the people at shul see singles in a certain way, and that is how they see me. And it's getting annoying. I think last week's letter got me thinking a lot. I am not sure though. I have to think about that.
As I told you last time, anything I do as a single guy amazes them. And that's annoying. To be wowing people with basic life skills, like not smelling bad and tying my own shoes, got me questioning if I am different.
By the way, it would be nice to hear from you. I hope you and your family are doing well. I didn't hear back from you last time. I would've thought you would've been impressed I wrote a whole letter and figured out how to email it.

Now I know what's going on. They think I'm pathetic. I have some kind of disability. Which is apparently a Rachmanis. I heard them saying it in this soft melancholy tone. "What a Rachmanis." They're talking about what a pity I am. The patheticness of my life. It's like looking at a dying animal. You see the horse in agony, you think it's single, and you shoot it. It's a Rachmanis.

Rachmanis is a different level of pathetic. Not just a pity. They see me as "such a pity." That's what "a" means in Hebrew. "Such a." It's an extreme form of pitiness. One that can only be expressed in question form without a question mark. "What a Rachmanis." A question with a shake of the head showing disapproval that you are still around, which causes them pain. And yet it's a statement. How that works. Only Yiddish can do that. You see, Dave. Even I do it. "How that works" and "you see" would be questions if it was said by anybody that doesn't go to my shul.

They see you without a Tallis in shul. They all know it. A Rachmanis. That's what they're all thinking. And that's why your dues are so high. That's why singles have to pay membership dues at a rate of twice the amount of a family. It causes them such anguish to have to look at you, you have to pay the community a fine for that. It's a Knas for making them feel bad for looking at you.

They reserve Rachmanis for sick people and singles. Every once in a while, you'll hear it when they're talking about a poor community member, like when somebody is living in a townhouse. "Such a Rachmanis. They share a wall with another family." "I know. It might even be a duplex." And then they walk passed, clench their lips and shake their heads side to side, to let you know you've let them down. It's real hard hearing that Rachmanis of disapproval when they're visiting you in the hospital on life support. Knowing you've let them down by almost dying. And with some of these community members, if you're in the emergency room and single, if they start feeling Rachmanis, they might shoot you.

Rachmanis is their way of saying, "What a loser." "There is no way they'll every meet anybody. I hope I find another loser to set them up with. That will make them happy."

Do you guys ever get Rachmanis as a family? It's good to know who gets Rachmanis. How would you feel hearing that? "He's been pulling in seven figures with his promotion at the firm. Has four kids, doing well in private school. What a Rachmanis."

They see the single guy as pathetic. And this is why it amazes them when this disabled person can prepare a Shabbat meal, with food that "he even heated that up himself." This is why it amazes them that I live in a house, and it's not even a duplex. And then on top of that, I shower.
By the way, I see those pathetic people who make their way and push through life with tasks such as bathing, to be strong. Not pathetic. I respect the old single losers.
I think the old singles losers want to just be respected for standing tall, slicking back their hair, and still not attracting anybody. Still strutting their stuff in shul, Talissless. Hanging out at youth groups. Not realizing how they scare people.

I will never forget the, "It will happen." That's how she started the conversation. I showed up to shul and she had that Rachmanis look, as if she'd just had that conversation with her friend about how much better her life is for having had the chance to not be David. As I'm passing, she looks at me, "David. It will happen." I was like, "I just said 'Shabbat Shalom.'"
I think "It will happen" is the next level of pity. I don't know how seeing me causes a visceral reaction of "it will happen." As if she needed to convince herself that Gd is not that mean. Gd must have Rachmanis. I think the point is, I want to be a person again so I can save on dues.

And then they invited me for dinner. It's not that bad being a Rachmanis. You do save on Shabbis food.

I don't know.
They might have been talking about the Bar Mitzvah boy whose parents were divorced, and how the kid had to do go through his whole Bar Mitzvah without his dad showing up. But I know it was about me.

LSimchas,
David