My Single Peeps: Abby L.

Abby came to me via her mother, who e-mailed me after reading a My Single Peeps column. Abby, who is 34 and a stand-up comic, says she asked her mom — a founder of the Malibu Jewish Center & Synagogue — to use her contacts to hook her up with someone like David Letterman. Instead, her mom came back with, “I have someone better. I hooked you up with Seth from My Single Peeps.” I can’t help her stand-up career, but maybe I can help her meet her soul mate.

She describes her comedy as “conscious comedy,” which to me sounds like “comedy that isn’t funny.” “When I do shows, there will always be a redeeming punch line or something uplifting in my comedy,” she says. I’ve just met her but I can’t help telling her how unfunny that sounds. She defends herself with, “I always kill the room.” I assume she means kills them with the funny, but I’ve never heard her perform, so it’s up to you to decide. 

I ask Abby about the type of man she’s looking for, and she says, “I don’t want the typical L.A. cheese ball.” She wants someone who is spiritual, which to her means that he believes in something bigger than himself. “Call God whatever you want — just call God,” she says with a laugh. She studied with Orthodox Jews in Jerusalem and “loves the life.” But she still likes to walk around in booty shorts and pumps. “I’d love a shomer Shabbos man to help me get toward that life.”

In college, she shadowed a weather guy at a news station and thought it looked easy. “He partied all night, got paid more than anyone on staff (according to him), went to the gym at noon, and strolled in to work at 2:30.” She spent most of her internship making out with him. She went on to graduate school, where she was shocked by the amount of science that went into being a meteorologist. “I thought it was two minutes of science and 10 hours of performance. I realized it was 10 hours of science and two minutes of performance.” She worked as a weather girl in Mississippi while still in school, but her heart wasn’t in it. “Anyone can do it, but it’s hard, and it’s not my passion. So I flew back to L.A. to become the actress/waitress my parents were panicked about me becoming.”

Abby has a lot of odd jobs. I can’t really keep track of all of the things she does. She has a tutoring company; she writes; she sells “Mitzvah Kitz,” which she calls “Shabbat in a bag”; she teaches yoga; and she’s a life coach. I say, “You’re all over the f—-ing map.”  She says, “It’s easy to get certifications.” And she has a sense of humor at the ridiculousness of her varied careers. 

Abby also has a kooky side — the side of her that tries to convince me to stay away from doctors and all Western medicine, because “they’ll kill you.” But she’s also kind of tongue-in-cheek about her vegan, consciousness-raising, hippie-speak. She says, with no shame, “I want to wake up every day and do something uplifting and beneficial to the world.” Then, realizing how saccharine that sounds, she adds, “Tikkun olam forever” and starts laughing.

If you’re interested in seeing what she’s about, you can check out her website,

If you’re interested in anyone you see on My Single Peeps, send an e-mail and a picture, including the person’s name in the subject line, to, and we’ll forward it to your favorite peep.

Seth Menachem is an actor and writer living in Los Angeles with his wife and daughter. You can see more of his work on his Web site,, and meet even more single peeps at

My Single Peeps: Ameenah K.

I am married with a kid and living in Los Angeles. Many of my friends are single. They like to complain to me about how hard it is to find someone to love. (I like to complain about how hard it is living with someone you love.) This is my way of trying to get them off of my back. Every week I’ll post a new single peep, or someone new I meet who might be good for one of my peeps. If you’re interested in anyone you see on My Single Peeps, send an e-mail and a picture, including the person’s name in the subject line, to {encode=”” title=””}, and we’ll forward it to your favorite peep.

I met Ameenah when I was in sixth or seventh grade at “Jew camp.” She stuck out like a sore thumb … because she’s so funny. Oh, and she’s black. And there weren’t many black Jews at Jew camp.

No matter where we were in our lives, Ameenah and I always managed to stay in touch. And we often ended up living in the same cities. We’ve both been in Los Angeles for years now, struggling as artists … that is, if you can call having more money than you know what to do with a struggle. I just bought a Maserati and then cut off the top and let the homeless people in my neighborhood use it for a bathroom. That’s just how I roll. Don’t ask me why there are so many homeless people in my neighborhood — I don’t need you people finding holes in my logic. This is about Ameenah, not me … so focus.

Ameenah worked for years performing in the original cast of “Stomp” on Broadway. When we were 15, I showed her how to do a drum lick called a paradiddle. Since then, she’s turned into a sick drummer, and the only thing I still know how to do is a paradiddle. I walk around tapping my hands on my chest, and she’s playing percussion with Rihanna on the American Music Awards. TomAYto, tomAHto.

She can be intense. She’s opinionated and is not afraid to speak her mind. She’s really serious about what she does and tends to use terms like “my craft” when referring to acting. I just call it by the term my wife always uses — “The stupidest decision I’ve ever made.”

Although very much a tomboy and the kind of girl who can “roll with the boys,” she’s all woman. She’s got big, beautiful eyes, and she’s in unbelievable shape, with every muscle clearly defined. She dances and choreographs and has won more awards than I can mention.

She likes her men confident, and she doesn’t discriminate against race, creed, color or religion. But she does discriminate against stupid. So, don’t forget to bring your brains.

Seth Menachem is an actor and writer living in Los Angeles with his wife and daughter. You can see more of his work on his Web site,, and meet even more single peeps at

The Connector

I love my neighbor. Not, as it says in the Torah, “Love thy neighbor as thyself.” But literally, I love him. It’s not only because he helps me with manly activities, like moving furniture, killing cockroaches and opening jars (how do single women do these things alone?) but because Eric is a real man of character.

Here’s the thing about being neighbors in a claptrap house, where the walls are as thin as silk: I can hear everything that’s going on. Like when his young son visits for a month, and he is staying up in the middle of the night with him because he has a bad dream. Eric is a real mensch.

He’s also not Jewish. So I decided to do what any nice Jewish girl would do: I set him up with my friend, Genevieve. She’s also not Jewish, so they should be perfect together. Ha! If only matchmaking were so simple. Yes, the truth is, their non-Jewishness is not enough to make them a match (see: my single status), but they’re both smart, attractive, earthy, intellectual and worldly.

Besides, at synagogue on the High Holy Days I discovered a couple I’d set up. I’d gone out with David, thought he was great but not for me — so I’d introduced him to Risa.

“I hope I get credit for this,” I tell them after shul.

But they can’t give me credit — only God can. It says if you make three successful shidduchim, three matches, you automatically go to heaven. And this High Holy Day season I was thinking that I’d really like an automatic pass. (“Go directly to heaven. Do not pass hell; do not collect $200.)

Three should be easy enough. I meet so many guys who just because they aren’t for me doesn’t mean they wouldn’t be good for someone. What if this is my purpose in life? What if the point of my meeting so many people is to serve as what Malcolm Gladwell, in his book, “The Tipping Point,” calls “The connector?” I feel heady with possibilities.

I decide to connect my ex, Ben, with my friend’s friend, Deb. Deb’s a smart, sassy lawyer whose really into good wine and food; Ben’s also a lawyer who likes the good life and always says he needs a woman who will not put up with his … with the behavior he pulled on me, and I put up with.

Then I visit friends in D.C., and I run into Sara, a woman who just moved there from Los Angeles. She’s into Jewish education and is really tall and slim. She’d be perfect for Marc, this guy I meet in synagogue who works in aerospace and is … really tall. OK, so I don’t know either of them so well (at all), but isn’t it better to be introduced to someone through a friend than through a profile that may or may not resemble their actual brick and mortar selves?

I guess not. Sara wants to see a picture of Marc before she commits to anything — even though she’s new to town, and Marc figured the least he could do was introduce her around.

Ben, my ex, did see a photo of Deb on her law firm’s Web site and is not sure he wants to take her out — this is after I’ve given him her number and told her he’d call.

“Is she a good listener?” he wants to know. “Are you?” I want to reply, but I know he isn’t.

“I don’t want a loudmouthed woman who is going to always be telling me what to do,” he says explaining a Jewish stereotype without actually using the actual word.

“I thought you didn’t want a shrinking violet, a woman who wasn’t going to let you push her around,” I say. He couldn’t explain it.

But Genevieve could. She thinks my neighbor is nice, but she doesn’t want someone like her ex-boyfriend; she doesn’t want to like anyone too much because she acts silly. She doesn’t want someone to like her too much, because it makes her nervous; she wants to be friends first with everyone because…

OMG! People are crazy! Is this how insane I sound when talking about my dates? As I watch these dramas unfold around me, I am yet again amazed by the complex nature of human beings; is it a complexity we bring on ourselves?

For example: Eric and Genevieve. After every date, I get the story from both of them — believe me when I say I ask neither. One night, at midnight, there’s a knock on my door. They come in, we hang out, they leave. Ten minutes later, another knock. It’s Eric. He wants to talk. But the phone rings. It’s Genevieve. Eric leaves. I talk to Genevieve. I go to Eric’s after.

“What should I do?” he asks me.

I don’t know what to tell him. Or Genevieve, who is freaked out because he likes her. Or my ex, Ben, who has now put me in the awkward position of not wanting to take my setup. Or the couple in D.C., who are interrogating me like I’m applying for a job with the CIA.

Why am I doing this again? What was the reason I yetna-ed my way into these people’s lives? I am beginning to think they are all single — we are all single — for a very good reason. And I’m not sure I’m up for dealing with other people’s mishegoss (on which the Jews have no monopoly.)

So I give the D.C. couple each other’s online profile numbers; I tell Ben to do what he likes with Deb; but I also tell her to not expect his call; and I tell Eric and Genevieve they’re on their own.

I don’t have time to worry about them anymore. I’ve got to find someone for myself.