Read an Excerpt
INTRODUCTION
Once upon a Time . . .
. . . THERE WAS you. A sassy, funny, kind, smart, beautiful everyday princess looking for love. After a lifetime of Disney movies, Meg Ryan rom coms and your friends’ adorable meet cute stories, you’re wondering if you’re cursed when it comes to romance. Maybe you just got out of a long relationship, or you’re exhausted from dating a string of men who just won’t commit, or you haven’t been on a date in too many months to count. If you spend one more Friday night ordering carryout and watching Law and Order: SVU, or RSVP solo to one more wedding or have one more person ask you why you’re still single, you’re going to lose your mind. You’re fixated on one pressing question: where is my happily ever after??
Poof!
Cue dramatic entrance of your very own relationship fairy godmother—yours truly! For essentially my entire life, I’ve been an advice guru, matchmaker and relationship expert. Even when I was very young, people sought me out for relationship advice. I wasn’t the prettiest girl in middle school or high school (just pull out one of my yearbooks to confirm that!), but I did have a certain X factor that made guys flock to me and girls (even the popular ones) want to know my secret. The truth was, there wasn’t much of a secret; I just always had a big personality and a knack for connecting with people. I intuitively understood how relationships work and how and why people connect.
Through the years I loved playing cupid but even more I enjoyed dishing out the best advice. I was the love guru throughout my college years at Monmouth University with people lining up for my advice, both male and female. I worked my way through college by waiting tables at TGIFridays and I became the on-site love guru for all of my coworkers, who came to me with their romantic problems on a regular basis. And my coworkers weren’t the only ones. My section at the restaurant would always be packed with regular customers who often ordered up my advice with their appetizers!
Along with dishing out wisdom, I would always set up my work friends. In fact, TGIFridays is where I set up my very first couple who got married—my coworkers Chris and Amy, who are now celebrating their twenty-first wedding anniversary.
Once I got married and moved to a new state and new town it didn’t take long for all the moms I met at Mommy and Me to start sharing their relationship troubles and seeking my advice. Soon, word was out and friends of friends would call me up and ask for my time and advice. I loved every second of it. I found myself not only good at giving advice but getting passionate about people’s stories and following up with those who reached out. Every single time, every single person would be amazed at how much I remembered and the fact that I was checking in. It became a side job for me but didn’t feel like one.
Then a few years later after my divorce, I met Lara, a recruiter at a company called Model Quality Introductions (MQI), a matchmaking service. I was living in Florida at the time, and she approached me one night at a restaurant with an offer to set me up with one of their clients. But I was much less intrigued by the offer to be set up than I was by what she did for a living.
When I moved to New York a year later, I learned that MQI was hiring a new matchmaker for the Tri-State area and I decided I wanted the job. Actually, I decided I HAD to have that job. I went to an interview at the Waldorf Astoria and—I remember it like it was yesterday—the room was filled with thirty-six other people being considered for the position. I sized up the competition, took a deep breath and went in to sell myself to Craig, the owner of the company, and his wife.
I explained to them that I had been matchmaking since I was in elementary school. I described my history setting people up and how I intuitively understood what makes two people click. I told them how passionate I was about helping people find love and how much I enjoyed it. I was even helping out my friend Jennifer, who at the time was director of a dating service called It’s Just Lunch, suggesting connections between her clients. I should have invoiced her for the free labor, but truth is, I loved doing it so much that I was happy to help her out.
The more I talked, the more excited I became and the more convinced I was this was the perfect job for me. I guess I convinced Craig too, because a few weeks later he called to tell me the job was mine.
From day one, my career at MQI was exactly as wonderful and fulfilling as I’d imagined!
People always ask me what my secret to success when it comes to matchmaking is and it’s hard to pin down because so much of it comes from a gut instinct. I describe it as almost like a sixth sense. But beyond that I believe it comes down to a few key things. I listen to people very carefully and can interpret what they’re saying and, even more important, what they’re not saying, when it comes to what they are looking for. So when a woman tells me, “I just don’t meet any guys,” I hear, “I just don’t want to make an effort to put myself out there.” I cut through the bullshit, but in a loving way. My clients always know that I genuinely care about them and will work tirelessly to help them realize their romantic goals. They understand I am rooting for them and that helps them keep the faith and have an open mind. That’s half the battle when it comes to love. Also, I am very, very specific and very, very honest about what people should say and do to make their relationship or love connection work. And my advice works. The stats prove it: more than one hundred marriages on my watch, and counting!
After leaving MQI, I continued to work as a matchmaker on my own and give advice to thousands of people every day through my advice column in Marie Claire, my frequent national television appearances, including a popular dating TV show I hosted, and my social media platform. And now I’ve written this book to help you change your dating destiny once and for all.
I can hear you right now, though: But, Siggy, I’ve tried everything. I’ve read all the books, I’ve followed all the rules, played the games, not played the games and still haven’t found the one. It’s so haarrrrdddd.
Yes, sweet pea, it is. You’ve just been a little brainwashed to think that it’s supposed to be easy. Thank you very much, Cinderella. First night out of the castle, she meets a prince and it’s love at first sight. If only!
Blame fairy tales, cultural expectations, and a dash of biology (women are by nature relationship-oriented creatures), but the idea of finding our very own Prince Charming has an incredibly powerful hold on us, from when we’re little girls. This really hit home for me recently when I asked a six-year-old what she wanted to be when she grew up and she said married! There’s nothing wrong with that, of course—I love being married—but it does show that from a young age we’re often on a mission. Fast-forward a couple of decades from this little girl and you have the legions of single women who come to me for help with the same goal: to find a husband or life partner, and they want nothing less than princelike perfection.
Take Robin for example. I met Robin at a wedding. She was one of an army of bridesmaids, and as soon as she heard that I was a relationship expert—in fact, the relationship expert responsible for this particular wedding—she made a beeline straight for me. I’m pretty used to people at weddings, parties, supermarkets, back-to-school nights, etc., grabbing me to ask for my input on their relationship issues. I never mind because I love what I do.
So Robin, who’s a very good-looking woman in her thirties, began lamenting how she just can’t find a guy. She knew exactly what she wanted—but where was he? Naturally, I asked her to describe whom she was looking for. And she laid it out there, not holding back in telling a virtual stranger what she wanted. The very first thing she said? He should be rich. Visions of an apartment on Park Avenue, a summer home in the Hamptons, private school for her future kids, and a life free from want danced in her head. Well, honey, I thought as she described this ideal life, who doesn’t want that?
But I understood Robin, and all the other girls out there like her, more than she knew, because once upon a time, I too fell for this fairy-tale fantasy.
My prince was Mark Flicker, and when I met him at an event at a trendy Miami bar called the Forge, I literally swooned. He was tall and gorgeous, dressed impeccably, came from a wealthy family and made a very nice living. In short, he was the Jewish Knight in Shining Armor I had been looking for. As we dated, I became more and more entranced with the idea of a life with Mark, this dynamic “catch,” who was happy to lavish me with attention and gifts and offer me the life a middle-class girl from Cherry Hill, New Jersey, struggling to pay her student loans and other bills, could only dream of. I was also hearing the ticktock of my biological clock and knew Mark would make a great dad and be able to provide for our family. So, I was thrilled when we started dating and beyond thrilled when he shocked me a year later with a fancy new cherry red Mercedes and an even bigger surprise: a beautiful pear-shaped engagement ring tucked in the glove box.
Our wedding day had all the elements of a dream come true: hundreds of family and friends gathering on a sunny April day on Long Island. I was bursting with happiness in my gorgeous ivory mermaid-cut strapless dress, which made me feel like . . . well, a princess. The song Mark and I swayed to for our first dance was “I Finally Found Someone” (oh boy). But cheesy wedding songs aside, we were on our way to happy ever after, or so I thought.
Turns out, my so-called fairy tale became anything but. It was quickly apparent that Mark and I actually weren’t that well suited for each other. He was looking for a pretty little trophy wife, someone delicate and quiet for his arm, someone who would be a terrific supporting player, not some loud, out-there, bull-in-a-china-shop kind of woman. It’s hard to believe that I could convince anyone that I was a soft-spoken little doll of a wife, but I played the part when I met Mark, and we both wanted to believe that was who I was. Mark fell for my act, and I think I did, too. I felt I could be that person if I just kept trying. I wanted Mark to love me because being loved is the most amazing feeling in the world. So, I kept pretending, thinking all I had to do was keep trying harder. And harder. And harder.
During our marriage we had two beautiful children. That generous man gave me everything he could buy with his Visa. He put sexy new cars in the garage and couture in the closet. We lived in a gorgeous, sprawling Palm Beach home, and quite simply, we had everything we could dream of. But the woman Mark was in love with wasn’t me. It was a Siggy I pretended to be specifically for him. It was almost as if he had never met the real me. And as time went on and the real me began to emerge, Mark and I both realized something: he wasn’t as keen on that Siggy.
But I couldn’t be someone I wasn’t and I couldn’t ignore the lonely feelings that threatened to overwhelm me. And yet, Mark and I had made a commitment to each other, one I took very seriously. And we had kids together and a very nice lifestyle. Also, I’ll admit it: I was terrified of the unknown and being on my own. Which is all to say it wasn’t easy to imagine uprooting our lives and ending a nine-year marriage. At the same time, I knew as clear as I’ve known anything that I couldn’t stay married to Mark. Once we were able to finally face what our marriage truly was, we both felt a sense of relief.
Walking away from my marriage was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But I tried to handle the end of our marriage with love and kindness and respect. It wasn’t Mark’s fault and I didn’t want animosity to cloud our divorce—and not just for the kids’ sakes, which granted was important—but because deep down I loved Mark and wanted the end of our marriage to reflect the affection and admiration we’ve always had for each other. Mark and I didn’t have a great marriage, but we did have a great divorce, and I’m happy to report we’re still friends. I still love him and want the best for him. In fact, my ex-husband, Mark, was the best man at my wedding to my current husband, Michael. I set my ex up on plenty of dates when I was a matchmaker in NYC and eventually he found love on his own in the lobby of his building with his current his fiancée, Thuy! They are perfect for each other, and knowing that he found a woman that truly is his match makes me happy. We spend time together as a family with our children, and Mark, Thuy, Michael and I enjoy vacationing together. We’re very proud of how we’ve handled things—I call it “divorce done right.”
But it wasn’t always so easy. In the weeks and months after Mark and I separated, as relieved as I was to be free of my unhappy marriage, I was also fragile and sad. I wanted another chance at love and believed I deserved happy ever after, but it’s scary when everything you’ve known changes. Which is probably why I accepted another marriage proposal on the day my divorce was final! About six months after Mark and I separated, I started dating a longtime friend. He, like Mark, was eager to sweep me off my feet. This relationship was so different from my marriage to Mark. I always felt that I wasn’t appreciated enough in my marriage or that who I was wasn’t good enough. I was too loud. I was too over the top. With this new relationship I was with a friend who just adored me and accepted me. The problem was my feelings were not strong enough for him. I didn’t like him in a romantic way. I adored him for wanting to love me but the truth was I didn’t feel the same way about him. He wasn’t the right guy for me either. But, coming at such a vulnerable time in my life, I can see now how I got swept up in the moment. Luckily I came to my senses and called off the engagement almost as quickly as it had come.
Throughout this tumultuous period, I had to do some serious soul-searching. What I had always wanted for my life—financial security, a handsome husband, a “picture-perfect” love affair—turned out not to be what I needed. I had to figure out what I was really looking for and what kind of life and person would make me happy. Never one to wallow or focus on failure or regret, I licked my wounds, focused on my kids, hung out with my good friends and got my head back in the game.
When I was at a restaurant/bar in New Jersey with my best friend, Jen, a few months later and I met Michael, a cute car salesman who would become my husband, I was in a much different place. I was ready to believe in love . . . and myself again. Where Mark was practically perfect on paper, Michael was . . . not. He was going through a divorce himself, had just lost his business and was beyond broke. And he lived over one thousand miles away! Not ideal to say the least. But as Michael and I got to know each other none of that mattered. What did matter was that he was kind, that he made me laugh and that he loved me, the real me, with every one of my flaws, unconditionally. He is, without a doubt, the love of my life, my soul mate, the relationship I dreamed I would one day have. So, what went right with Michael after things went so wrong with Mark?
I learned that my fairy tale was different than I thought it would be, and that was okay. I was so focused on the fantasy in my head of what my life should be, that I missed the warning signs. I wanted the ideal, and that came at the expense of reality. I was so focused on looking for one thing, that I missed out on other possibilities. And I twisted myself into a pretzel to try to make it work because I wanted so badly for this to be the happy ending of my story. The irony is, doing that ensured that it would be anything but! It wasn’t until I figured out who I really was and what I wanted, and made a conscious effort to be more open, that I found the person (and the life) that suits me to a tee. It was a hard one, but a precious experience. There were a lot of tears involved. So I am here to save you from wasting time (and Kleenex) making the same mistakes. No matter where you are in your love life at this moment, I’m going to help you find the relationship you want, on your own terms.
How?
I’m going to offer you honest advice and straight talk.
I’m going to guide you through an honest assessment of what you might be doing wrong or could be doing better (because hey, if your fairy godmother can’t offer some tough love, who can?).
I’m going to help you think really hard about what you want from your life, what you want your story to be and how your future partner fits into that. So get out your favorite pen, because there will be writing. The exercises I’ve created in these pages are designed for you to drill deeply into what you are looking for (not your best friend, your next-door neighbor or even your mom) when it comes to life and love.
And I am going to share illuminating Q&As and stories from other women—friends, clients, and even strangers who have reached out to me at weddings, in line at the grocery store, on social media—who’ve been just where you are.
But most of all, I want to give you a hell of a pep talk. This last part is especially important. Because I know it’s no fun to be single. There’s no shame in wanting a good guy, someone to ask you about your day, to save you the last spoonful of cookie dough ice cream, and, let’s be honest, to change the oil in the car. You don’t have to feel pathetic or ashamed or superficial. But no more crying in your pillow, sweet pea. We’re going to fix this right up and in no time at all you’re going to be one of those envied women who seem lit from within, have an unassailable confidence and optimism when it comes to men and dating, and is fully prepared to find and enjoy lasting love. In the meantime, you’re going to live your best life, follow your passions and hobbies, and get to know and love yourself so when you meet your guy, you’re the best and happiest YOU you can be. And the best part? When you meet him—that irresistible, complicated, delicious yin to your yang—it’s not the end of the story. It’s just the beginning.
