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I had spent a decade in the dating scene, and I was done. I'd had enough of the fumbling hands and the cheesy pick-up lines and the ‘let's go dutch' conversations to last me a lifetime. Mostly I was tired of men who were less masculine than I was. I wanted a real man, someone financially successful and personally secure. I couldn't be with a man I couldn't respect, or admire, and I've never been attracted to a man I can't respect.

My solution for filling the husband/family void in my otherwise rewarding life was to take part in a matchmaking service. The kind that pairs gold-digging bimbos with millionaires. A bit crude, I realize, but nevertheless a fitting solution for my predicament. I wasn't expecting to find my soulmate. Just a man who was willing to put as much effort into me as I would be willing to offer him. It sounds so sensible, like it should be easy to find, but it's been terribly difficult for me on my own so I thought the matchmaker would be a tool of value to me.

I had flown into Chicago to meet with a possible match. He was a businessman, something in real estate, and had taken the approach most busy executives do, an exhaustive day of screening multiple women for possibilities. It was the first interview I'd ever been to this way. Most of the men I had met with flew into Denver to take me to dinner. More like a date than an interview, but I had been told when I signed on with the service that things were sometimes done this way, and could ...

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