Make me a match...

I made the mistake of watching Millionaire Matchmaker tonight. This is a Bravo TV reality show about this woman owns a business that finds rich, socially inept men and pairs them up with women who double as flotation devices. Matchmaker Patty Stanger acts as the expert in hookups, telling the men just how they should dress, act and decorate their homes, sometimes in not so delicate ways.

She's also not so delicate to the women whom she interviews and hand-picks to meet said various millionaire men. And, after watching tonight's episode of Millionaire Matchmaker, I'm ashamed to admit I felt even worse about myself than I already do this week. Patty's "tough love" sucks, and maybe I'm just a little bitter tonight, but maybe if she was a little less difficult to gaze upon, she'd have some ground on which to stand.

At one point Patty told the women, "Come on ladies, if you have short hair, grow it. Get extensions." She continued, "Guys want something they can run their hands through." I disagree with Patty Stanger; simply, that's bullshit. Has little Yenta Patty ever actually had hair extensions? Let me tell you, folks, I just got rid of my extensions. If I didn't feel my scalp for four months, and missed that a whole lot, I am here to tell you that nobody, no man, is going to be able to run his hands through that action.

And should a night of, shall we say, "excitement" happen, those lovely hair extensions will most certainly turn into a impenetrable rat's nest hair wad of epic proportions. 

Dating is hard. Damn hard. I should know as I've been doing it for quite some time. But is this what courtship has become? Exactly who are these women trying to impress-- the men they wish to date, or the women who judge them? That said, if she wanted to set me up with a few of these guys, I probably wouldn't complain.