"She should be tall, thin, breasty, 5'7" or above, and under 38," he rattled off without hesitation. "Implants are preferred. And, she should make a good salary on her own, unless she works in fashion or is a model, in which case, I wouldn't mind supporting her."
Did he understand that I was a matchmaker, not a madam at a high-end escort service?
He was pasty white, sported thick-rimmed black glasses, and worked in private equity. Since his divorce six months ago, he had been on 150 dates, sometimes scheduling in three or four women on Saturdays. He'd give the "coveted" — as he described it — Saturday-evening spot to the best-looking one.
When I told him that none of my clients was up to his standards, he took it as a compliment to his fine tastes. Let's guess that he's probably still single.
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8 New Yorkers Who Nearly Convinced Me Love Was Dead
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