When Crushable heard Patti Stanger was hosting an open casting call for Millionaire Matchmaker, we were eager to send a willing spy to soak up the scene. Preferably a male spy, since there are more openings for guy “daters” this season (apparently, more millionairesses live in New York versus L.A.). We had the perfect dude in mind. His experience, below:
I confess â€“ Iâ€™m a hopeless romantic. Iâ€™ve had my heart broken … more than once. Iâ€™ve left drunken messages professing my undying love innumerable times. And *sigh* I have even cried in front of who I once believed was my one-true love, begging her to please stay through swollen eyes. It should be of no surprise that I spent my Wednesday morning biting my nails outside of the Carlton Hotel, standing in an absurdly long line, seeking an audience with Patti Stanger. Yes, that Patti Stanger: the primetime queen of brash comments, tearing into the flesh of the unsuspecting, standing between me and my one-true millionairess.
I had been forwarded an e-mail by a friend (Editor’s note: Me!), one that advertised an open casting call for potential daters, those who thought they had what it took to impress Patti. I was told to â€śdress to impress,â€ť so I squeezed into my tightest jeans, a nice summer blazer and applied the piece de resistance â€“ a pocket square. I was dashing. I was dapper. I was dreaming of love.
I arrived at 7:10, 20 minutes before the casting was scheduled to begin, and stood in what seemed to be a never-ending line of hopefuls. I glanced up and down, wanting a glimpse of my fellow suitors. There were the thirty-and-fortysomething bankers with their slicked-back hair and black suits with power ties. And there was me. A young student with a strong education but, nevertheless, youthful ignorance. I was there because of a dream; they were there because of a harsh reality. They may live in a lavish apartment and be greeted every morning by a doorman who knows their name, but behind the door with gold-plated numbers is an empty home.
The women were a different story all together. Though they came in all shapes and sizes, both young and old, they were dreamers, every last one of them. There was the African woman with terribly broken English, plump in her lemon-yellow floor-length dress, hearing aids hidden behind her aging ears. Her Romanian friend translated for her, encouraging her to stand apart from the crowd when cameras rolled by, displaying her photographs for the line monitors to see. There were, of course, the many twentysomething women in their high-fashion wardrobes and heels wobbling underneath the weight of their oversized bags that contained modeling headshots. And there was the slightly older crowd. The women who werenâ€™t dreaming of fame and fortune, (well, not of fame at least), but believed that true love awaited them. Behind me stood a woman who said she had been traveling for the last year, spending the most recent months in a boat off the coast of Greece and just happened to be in town for this casting. Hopefuls talked to one another while peering up and down the line, checking each other out (hey, maybe they’d find a life partner here instead of Patti’s database).
It was a somber day, and having to leave early for a real-life meeting, I had to put my dream on hold. I had to forget the laughs over caviar, the kisses over champagne. So I turned my back on whoever was behind those exclusive, brass doors of the hotel, but not before taking home an application for the hit Bravo series.
Here’s some of the material that’s asked on the form:
â€˘ List each of the following 5 traits in order of importance for what you are looking for in a love match: looks, height, sense of humor, wealth, personality.
â€˘ Questions inquiring about your childhood celebrity crush and professional aspirations as well as your parentsâ€™ relationship.
â€˘ The expected questions about whether or not you would be running for public office or in an advertising campaign or appearing on television in the next year.
â€˘ The obvious questions about citizenship/legal status, felonies and misdemeanors, etc.
â€˘ References and contacts. (Oh, they don’t check that. Reality shows vetting contestants? Sure, yeah, whatever).