I have many existential questions like:
Why do I exist?
How do I know the reality I see is actually reality?
Why don’t more people read this blog?
But the biggest question I had to consider today was: Why am I still single?
Don’t be mislead by the pronoun. I am not the “I” in that sentence although I am the “I” in this sentence: Why did I watch the show ‘Why am I still single?’ That is a question I will never be able to answer.
It is a show on VH1, starring Marcia Gay Harden as Siggy Flicker, a New York-based matchmaker, and Shawn and Marlon Wayans, reprising their roles from the 2004 classic White Chicks, as Siggy’s twin stylists.
I’ve just been informed that this is a “reality” show. This makes me think back to my second existential question.
So Siggy Flicker is apparently the name of a real live person. She helps people with their problems by having them bash apart perfectly-cooked whole chickens. The opening sequence shows the four main archetypes of singledom: The Overtalker, Mr. Ego, The Needy Guy and The Cat Lady. This is the name of my next band.
Siggy will be “helping” Ebonie and O’Neal. Ebonie is very picky and not easily impressed. She is shown making a vision board of her perfect man whom she calls Prince Jamal. It is very “impressive” and not at all like anything I would have done in sixth grade. This is true, in sixth grade I had a very “impressive” picture collage of Ralph Macchio on my bedroom wall. Ebonie’s vision board makes my collage look like a Robert Rauschenberg.
O’Neal is a “recording artist.” He sounds like a seal, the barking kind not the musician, as he bleats into a microphone. So maybe a sheep is a better analogy? I don’t know, I’ve already spent too much time thinking about his “music” career that I now must be lobotomized. He says he’s the “black Brad Pitt.” He talks a lot about his tattooed balls, which I hear is how Brad Pitt won over Angelina Jolie.
Siggy sets Ebonie and O’Neal on a date-vaillance, in which Siggy and her twin stylists secretly observe their date behavior. Ebonie brings up Prince Jamal. O’Neal talks about how the dump he took in the bathroom will require the restaurant to repaint the walls. The two do not click.
Siggy show actual judgment when she bursts in to end the date when O’Neal begins talking about how his balls smell like lavender. I am by no means a matchmaker, but even I know ball scent is a first date no-no.
Siggy now confabs with the twin stylists and people who are identified by the moniker “love picker,” which for some reason makes me think about elementary school when kids would call other kids garbage pickers.
“The worst thing you can do is wear a bindi on your forehead,” says one love picker wearing a bindi on her forehead. She might not have actually said that, but she should have and then immediately went to a mirror, saw her mistake and removed the bindi.
So now it’s time to change the bad date behavior of Ebonie. The twin stylists dress her in a terrible Cinderella costume taken from my school’s 1988 production of Cinderella and plop make up on her face. She is taken to a group of “princes” wearing crowns a half-step up from the paper Burger King crown but 10 steps down from the crown the former creepy Burger King mascot wears. She reads her Prince Jamal wishlist and all the princes leave. The moral: Don’t appear on reality television.
Siggy takes O’Neal to a knitting circle when he can dazzle a group of older women with his knitting double entendres. “Is this a sewing needle or the actual size of my penis?”
The love pickers are out and about picking out potential love interests, and now I understand why I made the connection to garbage pickers. They stop in barber shops, basketball courts, free clinic waiting rooms, urine-soaked alleyways. Siggy separates the chaff from the even chaffier with probing questions like “Where’s the craziest place you’ve ever had sex?”
Matchmaking magic ensues. O’Neal is going on a sailboat date: “I know I’ve got swag. Out of the gate, if she’s hot we f*** in the boat.” Lucky, lucky girl.
Ebonie is going wine-tasting in some Brooklyn establishment that encourages people to suck out wine as if they are siphoning gasoline from a tank to mix with other wines. I know it’s hard in New York, and restaurateurs have to resort to gimmicks to get traffic such as charge $700 for a bowl of donut soup, but this is just gross. Incidentally how I feel about the winetasting is how Ebonie feels about her date. In the bathroom she secretly tapes together the vision board Siggy cruelly made her rip apart.
O’Neal does the “I’m-the-king-of-the-world” Titanic reference and mentions his balls once. His date is perfect.
The show ends with an Animal-House where-are-they-now style ending. Ebonie is still searching for Prince Jamal and O’Neal is engaged.
Lucky, lucky girl.