You don’t have to be a fan of politics to admire the message of the commercials that the US Army created in the 1980s and 1990s. The message at the end of the commercial was simple: “Be all that you can be.” I think that is a great lesson and motto, and it can be used by all in life. Shoot for the stars! Aim high and don’t settle for average! Discover your potential. But some people don’t share my opinion – which is fine. Live your life and raise your family as you please. But I must say something when I find out that people are trying to pass along the message of “Mediocrity is okay if [insert the scenario here].” In this particular situation and scenario, I will fill in the blank: “Mediocrity is okay if you’re a woman looking for a shidduch and you have a chance to rise to your potential and have a great job/career doing what you love. But if you want to be a kallah, better settle for a job that doesn’t intimidate a prospective suitor.” Read on.

A couple of weeks ago I published a question that I received from a young woman named Sara who is relatively new to the shidduch world. She asked for some advice. That was it. She had a simple request. I believe that I honored it by telling her to trust in herself and her instincts. I received more feedback from that article and my response than even I would have thought. Here are some examples:

Just the other week, I was in my bedroom in my parents’ house, flipping through my elementary school yearbook. Memories came flooding back, some good, some not so good. If I could talk to my seventh and eighth grade self now, I would tell her sooo many things, including the fact that you can put ¾ cup of sugar in a recipe twice and not multiply ¾ cup by two and nothing horrible will happen. The cake will still turn out delicious! (I fear the day my children will come home with math homework that involves fractions.) I turned the pages, grimacing and rolling my eyes at most of the black and white images.

 A few weeks ago, some of you may remember a letter I published from Nechama (fake name). She had been dating Avi (fake name, as well) for a while and then things hit the skids – as in: stopped. Nechama had thought it was because of a medical condition she and some of her immediate and extended family members have: spherocytosis. I was right about the diagnosis! Nechama revealed her identity to me the week the article was published. She said that she had no idea that I knew what it was, and now she felt as though she can speak freely about it because of my family history with it. Not that there is anything to hide or be ashamed of with spherocytosis, but I never guessed Nechama or her family had a history of it.

 Dear Goldy:

I am in my 40s and single. In all my years of dating, I think I may have gone out with a handful of men that I really liked, but for some reason or another, things didn’t work out. What my family (parents and married brothers) doesn’t understand is: I’m not the same 19-year-old girl that began dating over 20 years ago.

 While walking around carnivals or amusement parks, you can spot a boyfriend/husband playing a carnival game in the hopes of winning a stuffed animal for his girlfriend/wife. The two lovebirds then walk, arm in arm, to another game, ride, or concession. When I was single, I would look at such couples and think, “Awwww, that’s sweet.” I’m not embarrassed to admit that I wished I had someone in my life to win an oversized or undersized stuffed animal for me that looked softer and “plushier” than it actually was. Yet, many years later, when a date did in fact win a prize for me, I didn’t want to accept it from him. I knew that the doll wasn’t an engagement ring, but I felt that by taking the doll that it would cement the relationship, and I wasn’t prepared for that. For some reason, that doll represented everything I didn’t want at that moment. For that moment, the cute little doll with the cute nose had some contagious disease that I didn’t want to contract. I didn’t want to touch it, much less hold it.