Not your average profile

I'm not sure what the profiles on my side of the gender fence look like. But many of those I've just scanned on your side begin like this: "I'm a kind, warm, caring, easy-going, well-rounded person." Or, "I'm a sophisticated female." "Or, "I've been told that I'm..." Question: is it possible to describe oneself non-generically? Answer: please read the following non-generic, other-than-self congratulatory attempt in the form of a poem b the Israeli Dan Pagis (1936-1989).

'You pick me up, a coin someone has lost,
And rub me between thumb and forefinger.
I try to be new, even shine a little.

You look for my denomination,
examine the face stamped on me.
I make myself rare, almost a real king.

Still not enough. You incline a doubtful ear,
strike me, and listen. I ring for you
with my purest sound, almost flawless.

And last, as an experienced money changer,
you bite me: perhaps it will bend,
this phony god piece.

But I am hard, I stand the test: not gold, but still
a decent alloy. Reassured,
now you spend me, at your will.'

I teach and write about literature for a living. But since the point here is to get your attention, not demonstrate my job-skills, I will defer a close-reading until later (perhaps, we can do it together!). For the moment, though, you will notice that the first word in the poem is ''you,'' not "I" (e.g., ''I'm a...' . That's number 1: isn't it more meaningful if we let the other make sense of who we are? Number 2: I'd much rather get your attention through my own voice, but for the moment I let a great poem speak for me. Number 3: I believe profoundly in imaginative truth, the kind of truth this poem suggests. As decent alloys go, I'm not bad at all....

Poetry/Shmoetry, you are thinking. OK, then, I'll bite (like the poem says). Here's your non-metaphorical checklist:

Exubeantly affectionate, devoted to a fault, by turns tender and passionate, honorable, ardent, verbal (and sometimes, if you're lucky, even at a loss for words), ironic but deeply earnest, anything but parochial, young-looking but seasoned, open-minded and open-hearted, quick-witted and soul-chambered, one-of-a-kind but many-faceted, a coin worth finding but also a pearl-diver, willing to dive deeply to find you.

Essential. I am observant but non-parochial. Can I put it this way? The opposite of "religious" is not "secular," but "irreligious."

How about this, from yet another Israeli poet, this time Yehudah Amichai? "Lovers leave fingerprints on each other,/ plenty of physical evidence, words without end,/ testimonies, a wrinkled/ pair of pants, a newspaper with the exact date,/ and two watches, his/ and hers./ Every morning they trace each other's contours/ the way the police mark the location of the body/ on the road with chalk. Lovers surrender each other, lovers reserve the right to remain silent. If and when they are separated, tey compose a police sketch of their faces and a lineup so they can say: He's the one! She's the one!"

Perhaps not exactly descriptive of a first date, but I endorse the general sentiment:

"But even as man and woman marvel at each other, the solution and dissolution of their wonder is at hand--the love that has befallen them. They are no longer a wonder to each other; they are in the very heart of wonder." (Franz Rosenzweig) If that's too much front-loading for a first-date, let's just say more hit than miss, more thrill than spill, more mazel than misadventure.

Not a wish, but a longing:

I'm looking for: someone ethical and impassioned--who keeps faith in multiple senses--who does want to have children--is committedly Jewish but at home in the world--who is kind, affectionate, simpatico, smart, self-aware--who is as desiring as she is desirable--who makes me laugh--who resonates and offer sonority--who takes pleasure and derives meaning in the beauty created by others--who prizes language--who wants to be engaged intellectually, creatively, heart and mind-before whom I would feel humbled in my own limitations but also redeemed by her fidelity--who emotionally courageous (chayil) and ardent (eshet).

A last bit of ventriloquism: in the story "The Magic Barrel" by Malamud, the hero at the end "runs forward with flowers out-thrust" to the woman (his bashert, we hope), whose photograph had captivated him, in particular her eyes: "and from the way the light enclosed and shone from her, and within her, opening realms of possibility.& uot; The woman, wearing white dress and red shoes, waits "uneasily and shyly" for him. And "from far, he saw that her eyes were filled with desperate innocence."

That's whom I seek: white dress, red shoes, eyes that open realms of possibility.