Last night I watched "Crossing Delancey", a movie I haven’t watched in years (probably since 1988 which is the year it was released). In this movie, Izzy’s "Bubbie" enlists a matchmaker since "Bubbie" fears Izzy will reach spinster-status if she doesn’t intercede. Enter Sam, the "Pickle Man" – seemingly perfect to Bubbie, "The Pickle Man" is the nice Jewish boy that Izzy fears and rejects (well, initially anyway).
Most of us have had at least one "Pickle Man" in our lives and depending on where we meet them in this journey, we too may accept or reject them. I met countless ones with names I can and cannot remember. My "Pickle Men" were genuinely nice guys, at least for the short amount of time that I spent with them before I ran away from them (and probably to some guy to whom I was their "Pickle (Wo)Man"). I think it was through this process of going from nice guy to not-so-nice guy that I finally reached a point where the latter was no longer an option. In fact, I was SO jaded by the "Non-Pickle Man" that I just decided I was done with all men. Well, my mind changed on this one thanks to a persistent "Pickle Man" (much like Sam, Izzy’s "Pickle Man") who surprised me in ways that would’ve promoted a fast getaway in my earlier years. This "Pickle Man" called when he said he would, wanted to spend time with me more than with his friends, was reliable to the point where I felt guilty that I wasn’t, … Bottom line, he should have scared the buh-jezuz out of me but he didn’t and, in fact, he grew on me. No, it wasn’t all perfect, nothing is, and perhaps understanding that part is what allows us to accept the "Pickle Man" in the end.
Izzy eventually accepted her "Pickle Man" (to Bubbie’s exultant joy) and while I’m not sure if Izzy married her "Pickle Man", I married mine.