Ladies and gentleman, I have an announcement to make. Three actually. The first is that I spent Memorial Day at my parents’ place in The-Middle-of-Nowhere (Hoopers Island, MD) and am still wading through the comments on Saturday’s post; suffice it to say, the vast majority have left me speechless (and for a variety of reasons).
The second announcement is that I’ve had another break through.
I was sitting in the living room when it happened, eating chocolate chip cookie dough from a bowl and watching my new favorite show. I’m not sure what’s more embarrassing: my penchant for salmonella poisoning or my love of mind-numbing reality TV (I mention neither in my online dating profiles).
I guess I should just tell you the name of the show, and the nature of my “aha” moment, and let you decide.
The show is Say Yes to the Dress. (For those of who have yet to discover the very finest Netflix on Demand has to offer, it’s a TLC reality show that chronicles the daily shenanigans of Kleinfeld’s Bridal Salon in New York.)
Being that its reality TV, there’s always some sort of drama on Say Yes to the Dress: the bride isn’t showing enough cleavage, the brides showing too much cleavage, the bride’s mother-in-law hates the dress, the bride’s mother-in-law hates the bride, the bride just lost her job and finally— my personal favorite—the bride just lost her job and wants a $12,000 dress.
Whenever there’s a major crisis, Fashion Director Randy Finoli steps in to save the day. I don’t really get Randy’s role on the show— why do you need a Fashion Director when you’ve already got an army of designers, consultants, managers, supervisors and old ladies with Eastern European accents locked away in the basement to do alterations?—but I’m glad he’s there, for reasons which will soon become apparent.
The bride was having a total identity crisis— one minute she told her consultant that she wanted to look like Nicole Kidman, the next she wanted to be Maria VonTrap from the Sound of Music. She kept flip-flopping until Randy pulled her aside and said (get out your notebook; this is the “aha” moment)–
Finding the right dress is like finding the right man. You don’t have to date every man in the entire world to find the right one. When you find the one, you’ll know.
Granted, he was just trying to get the wishy-washy bride to make up her mind—the “one,” in this case, was just a dress— but I can’t get Randy’s annoying, nasally little voice out of my head.
Why? Well, in comparing men to dresses, he put serial dating into terms I can understand.
I’m nothing if not thorough. When purchasing my very first American Girl doll, I couldn’t decide if I wanted Molly or Felicity so I made a chart—an actual chart—and ranked the dolls on their hairstyle, eye color, clothes and accessories. In one version of this story, I ended up with Molly because she’d earned the highest score. In another version (the truthful version), I ended up with Molly because I fudged the numbers: I’d wanted Molly all along, I just wanted to make sure I considered all of my options in order to make a rational decision.
Little has changed since then. When I was applying to grad school, I looked into dozens of programs, even after I found the exact one that I wanted.
I’m never sure about anything until I’ve tried everything else; I make lists in my sleep (literally, I keep a stack of sticky tabs next to my bed for this very purpose) and I will never buy a pair of shoes until I’ve slipped into a few dozen pairs.
Sometimes it’s good to be thorough, to leave no stone unturned, but sometimes it’s not and this, I’m beginning to think, might be one of those times.
As such (get ready for Announcement #3) I’ve canceled my Match.com subscription (for good this time). I’ve also canceled my eHarmony subscription (also for good, although knowing eHarmony they’ll still try to charge me for another six months…) and I shall continue attempting to cancel my Plenty of Fish subscription until I succeed or give up on checking my email (whichever comes first).
I like trying on dresses, but I’m starting to think I’ve had enough.