Kerry Allen

Flipping through cable channels has again resulted in despair about the state of interpersonal relationships in the 21st century.

Not as blatantly disgusting as VH1’s I Love New York or Rock of Love, Lifetime has nonetheless managed to produce an eye-snaring train wreck with Matched in Manhattan. I didn’t see the whole episode (I successfully escaped during a commercial break), but during the portion I did see, this poor woman who had just moved to New York and wanted to get out and meet some people was told that in order to make that happen with this “dating agent,” she had to have a complete makeover, redecorate her apartment, and basically undergo a personality transplant because no one could possibly like her the way she was. She submitted to this (rather than telling the smarmy little bastard where he could shove his straightening iron) and was set up on a date, before which she was coached on what to say and how to behave.

Let’s assume the guy underwent the same preparatory conditioning (because if he didn’t, that would be sexist enough to make my head explode). What you have on this date, then, is two people who don’t really exist.

What happens if they agree to continue dating on the basis of that first date, at which neither of them was truly present? Do they maintain the charade forever, or is there a point where one feels comfortable revealing that the entire relationship is based on lies? Does one then have any right to be upset when the other confesses to deception on the fundamentals, as well?

The thing that scares me (more than networks filling the airwaves with these shows) is the internet buzz. People are using this show for dating tips. As if weeding through the weirdos wasn’t a treacherous enough endeavor, they now have a new guru telling them it’s not only okay to be a phony, it’s a necessity.

And then there’s the Millionaire Matchmaker on Bravo, which I had to turn off as soon as she told the few classy-looking women in her office they had to show their tits if they wanted her to set them up on dates…

I’ve long been convinced there’s an element of magic involved in finding The One, but now there’s the added complication of having to discern real magic from smoke and mirrors wielded by people who’ve had professional training.

I’m so glad I don’t have one of those mothers who bemoans my spinster status…