Do I have to be one hundred percent sure that this is 'the one'?
Even in a good shidduch, hundred-percent certainty usually doesn't happen, and some measure of doubt can remain right up to the chuppah; real 'this is the one' more often arrives as a quiet, calm confidence -- comfort, trust, compatibility, and shared goals, not fireworks. What matters is the essentials -- yiras shamayim, middos, hashkafa -- a well-founded doubt gets worked through with a mentor or with new information, and then, as at the splitting of the sea, you have to take the step.
Most likely there won't be hundred-percent certainty: a small doubt may remain, and getting married inevitably calls for a step of faith. Neon arrows are rare, and married friends who insist they "just knew" have usually forgotten the hours of doubt and the long pro-and-con lists. People wait for a flash of insight, but what usually comes is a quiet, low-key confidence -- a feeling of comfort, safety, and support. Shira turned down good people for five years chasing "the spark"; with Aryeh there were no fireworks, but it was easy, safe, and fun, and she realized the feeling she was looking for was there, just quieter than she expected. One helpful exercise: picture life with this person, and then picture that you walked away -- what would you feel, relief, regret, or indifference? And maybe the better question isn't "is he the one?" but "am I ready to be the one for him?" -- meaning, ready to commit, to compromise, and to grow together.
“Ask yourself not ‘is he the one?’ but ‘am I ready to be the one for him?’”
He brings the answer a kallah gave at her vort: from what he's done, he's a solid and responsible person; we're on the same wavelength, we think alike and share the same goals, we like each other's personalities, and although we can see how different we are, I'm confident in my decision. This describes trust and compatibility, not an emotional high.
Uncertainty often accompanies dating, the engagement, and even the marriage itself, but there comes a time when you have to take the step. Change is almost always hard, even when the decision is right, and the anxiety of anticipation is usually worse than the thing feared. Once the commitment is made, joy often follows and much of the doubt falls away on its own -- Chazal teach that there's no greater joy than the resolving of doubts. Some measure of uncertainty is present almost always, sometimes right up to the chuppah, and that's normal. It can be reduced: going over the information already gathered, or gathering new information, noticeably eases the wavering. The feeling of uncertainty itself should trigger not flight, but a calm reassessment: are you deceiving yourself by breaking things off for emotional reasons, or is the break genuinely right? What answers this is information and conversation, not waiting for inner stillness. They write that the nagging question "is this the person I should spend my life with" stays even with those who married the very first candidate they met, and they call that an inner struggle, not a sign of a mistake. Far more common, in their experience, is the opposite trouble: someone goes on many dates and doesn't come close to the person they need.
“there is no greater joy than the resolution of doubt.”
In a letter to a yeshiva bachur he answers directly: don't think that in a truly good shidduch a person is a hundred percent certain. Experience shows the opposite -- much of what looked wrong at first turned out very good, and what looked wonderful later turned out to be nothing of the sort.
“Often, what at first looked wrong or unsuitable turned out to be very good.”
He brings Shlomo's words: "One who watches the wind will not sow, and one who watches the clouds will not reap." There's no full certainty in anything -- not in which way the wind will blow, nor in who will be born; sow in the morning and don't hold back your hand in the evening, for you don't know which will succeed. That's why shidduchim were compared to the splitting of the sea: there, one had to step into the water, and here too you must decide to take the step, setting aside the small things people turn into reasons to say no.
“if we truly want to get married, we simply have to decide to take that leap.”
You can't fully know a person's character until you've lived with him for years and seen him in all kinds of circumstances -- a few dates simply can't give you that. So you look at what matters most: yiras shamayim, good middos, a compatible hashkafa, tznius. Beyond that, a certain measure of bitachon is needed, and small irritations are worth tolerating if the essentials are in order. He compares this to the splitting of the sea: it only parted after Nachshon stepped into the water. As a general rule, he says, there can be no hundred-percent certainty in matters like this. But when a doubt is well-founded, it shouldn't be kept to oneself: one should seek the advice of a close friend to whom one can open up fully.
“so too in a shidduch, one needs bitachon and the resolve to decide.”
Singles ask: what's the alternative, if more dates aren't helping and the atmosphere is already heavy. He answers honestly: ask yourself whether you're someone for whom this available way of meeting people simply won't produce all the "bells" you're hoping for. Many couples decide to marry when the shidduch is suitable, sensible, and shares the same goals in Torah, even if the relationship feels cool -- this is rarely talked about, but it's the reality. A person has to know himself: if you find this system difficult, there's nothing wrong with you -- you'll just have to make the decision with less inner comfort.
“We have freedom of choice, and we have to choose.”
