My friend Chandra, 29, a magazine editor in New York who was raised in Jeffersonville, Ind., is as Wonder Bread as they come. She was born Catholic, raised Lutheran and had never known (that is, biblically) a Jew until she moved to Manhattan. Tired of Match.com, she posted an ad on JDate, figuring she'd give the Hebrews a whirl. She announced right off the bat that she wasn't Jewish, but did anyone mind? Au contraire. The first week she was on she was bombarded with messages -- about 100 in three days. "If I log on at night and stay logged on while I'm out, I'll come back to find 30 messages and/or missed IMs waiting for me in the morning," she says. "Most of them say things like, 'I never really date Jewish girls anyway.'"

This does not remotely surprise Craig Zavielsky, 41, an I.T. expert from Long Island, N.Y. "Non-Jewish women appreciate me more for just being nice, in the same way non-Jewish men probably excite Jewish women more because they're more classically male and maybe not as nice," he says. "Jew-on-Jew romance is a bit incestuous, almost like you set up the relationship you had with your mother."

Those persistent stereotypes -- Jewish women who are bossy and opinionated and Jewish men who can't use a power drill to save their lives -- can actually be quite endearing to non-Jewish members of the opposite sex.

"When we got locked out of our apartment Jon wanted to call the locksmith," laughs Rebecca Bradshaw, 37, a non-Jewish marketing consultant from Minneapolis who married a Jewish man a few weeks ago. "I had him lift me up through the window. He's not interested in the car, including washing it. I come from a family of people who can fix things."

That said, she's not at all bothered that he doesn't own a tool belt. "I love the intellectual side of him and that we can talk about all kinds of things," says Bradshaw, who's actually converting to Judaism. "I like the fact that he doesn't go ice fishing and hunt deer; I can talk to him about clothes and politics and we will have an energetic conversation."

After my friend Cindy, 32, a graphic artist in New York, returned from a weekend away with her new Jewish beau, it occurred to her that she'd done all the cooking and cleaning. But she didn't mind. For her, the benefits of being with a menschy man outweighed her domestic efforts.

"Jewish men are less emotionally repressed," she says. "The ones I have dated come from these huggy, kissy Jewish families where love is expressed freely. Really, it comes down to the fact that I already have one emotionally repressed family; I don't need someone else's."

Of course, there are thorny issues associated with intermarriage. I know scores of interfaith couples who aren't sure how they want to raise their kids, whether they ought to join a church or a synagogue, or if Jesus should be a regular part of their lives or just an exclamation.

I'm certainly not advocating abandoning Judaism; I'm hoping the tribe expands and explodes and lives forever. I'm a big fan of conversion -- assuming you're doing it for the right reason and not to please someone's mother-in-law. If I marry a non-Jew, I want my kids to have some kind of Jewish identity, just as I would want them to have some kind of American identity if I raised them in Europe. I'd like to have a house filled with a smorgasbord of festivities: Let's play dreidel by the warm glow of the Christmas lights, with Buddha sprawled on the mantel and the Tao of Pooh on the bookshelf. "With intermarriage the kids will grow up in a household where it's accepted that neither religion is true," says Douglas Rushkoff, 42, the author of "Nothing Sacred," which examines how Judaism has been misconstrued over the last century. "And that's the most important thing."

And even though I don't want my kids kneeling at the cross (or growing earlocks), what's wrong with embracing a calmer, less neurotic attitude? Getting some height in the mix? Why not have a first name that's a last name instead of a last name that's a first name? And most essential, why thrive on exclusivity?

"It used to be seen that difference was harder to transmit to our children; part of what people used to do was create sameness because that was seen as easier," says Debby Hirshman, until recently the executive director of the Jewish Community Center in New York, which has an array of interfaith programs for its members. "The healthiest society [is one where] people realize that differences can coexist and become a strengthening force within each of us."

I agree. And as my recent Jewish date will attest, it doesn't look like I'll be frolicking under a chuppah any time soon, anyway. He and I went out, we made small talk, we split the bill, I was unimpressed, and that was that. But the final nail in the mezuzah? I discovered that our parents live in the same condo complex in Florida. And the only thing worse than two Jews in a relationship is six.

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We want to make you a part of this series. What is the state of your union? Did you find the one and never look back, or has finding lasting love been a marathon of trial and error? Did you have a fairy-tale wedding only to watch things crumble once the reception was over, or have you glided along in marital bliss since Day One? We want to hear your stories of joy, romance, heartbreak and pain. After all, partnership, as we all know, is a complex concoction of all of those things. (Please remember: Any writing submitted becomes the property of Salon if we publish it. We reserve the right to edit submissions, and cannot reply to every writer. Interested contributors should send their stories to marriage@salon.com.)

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