It’s become clear to me that what makes the Millionaire Matchmaker so valuable is not that she finds the perfect mates for her wealthy clients. Rather, she finds the imperfections in said clients and frankly—and sometimes brutally—addresses them.
Naturally, Stanger isn’t without her own flaws (namely, I shudder when she calls out women for their aesthetic inadequacies during her “castings” ), but I truly feel as though she’s doing more good than harm when it comes to her particular line of work. First of all, she understands that if her clients were any good at this dating thing then they wouldn’t need her assistance. She knows that something about them isn’t working. She just has to figure out what that is. It’s not a matter so much of finding the “right” match for these millionaires. It’s more about finding what’s “wrong” with the millionaires themselves. Therein lies her service to clients and, in a way, society itself.
For example, on last week’s episode, Real Housewives of New Jersey‘s Caroline Manzo approached Stanger to find girlfriends for her two sons. She immediately assessed the situation that one of the biggest problems for the guys was that their mom was way too involved in their dating lives, made worse by the fact that they both live at home. She requested that they “cut the umbilical cord.” That’s not likely to happen. And it was obvious that while her interaction with the Manzos was playful and fun in a network-imposed cross-promotional way, she also realized that her hands were essentially tied by Caroline’s apron strings, and there was really nothing that she could do for them.
Other than the stint with the Manzos (who have rich parents but aren’t rich themselves), the millionaires in her club—the lion’s share of them being men—are bristling with entitlement. Perhaps their financial success has led them to believe that they are deserving of anything they desire, including people. They have incredibly high standards when it comes to looking for a partner, yet for all their economic savvy, they don’t seem to realize that certain traits come at a cost. (For example, a wealthy middle-aged man who is looking to start a family with a homebody needs to understand that his compulsive attraction to hot, 22-year-old girls in tight dresses won’t universally yield such results.) What makes Stanger so appealing is the wake-up call she issues to such men. Using her no-bullshit attitude, she breaks it down for them: While the prerequisite for her club does revolve around money, net worth alone doesn’t make somebody actually worthy. Stanger tries to make them see that they don’t deserve everything they want, and then tries her best to make them more deserving of what she thinks they need.