The other night, I finished in one sitting Matchbook, Diary of a Modern Day Matchmaker by Samantha Daniels. (For some reason, this is the type of book that attracted me at the library the week before vacation. The third such book in my suitcase is Free for All, a â€œtell-all by a mild-mannered librarianâ€).
Matchbook turned out to be a great entrepreneur story. The author started as a divorce lawyer who had more fun planning singlesâ€™ events. Her original business idea was to organize blind date dinners for small groups, but that never took off. Instead, she began by charging clients $1000 to arrange 12 dates for them and eventually raised the price to $10,000. She sprinkles the book with little business lesson â€œnotes to selfâ€ that she learned. I liked that she didnâ€™t know everything from the start.
And of course, she has a client she calls â€œMiss Boobsâ€. See if you can relate to Miss Boobs after the jump.
A new client walked into the Regency today, and when she took off her coat, all I could think was, What a rack! Have I become a man, analyzing women first by their boobs? This woman was tall and had a flat stomach but she also had huge breasts. I mean bizungas galore. It was hard not to notice them first. I could think of a ton of guys who would go crazy for that. I mean her. The funny thing about her, though, was that she was oddly self-conscious about her looks. She explained that she was meeting with me because she was having trouble meeting quality men. She felt as if she only met men who were obsessed with boobs, and she was more than boobs alone. I, too, had already forgotten about the rest of her. Maybe itâ€™s not fair to call her Miss Boobs?