Every Wednesday, Senior Writer Allison Hoffman recaps the previous night’s episode of the glory that isMillionaire Matchmaker.
Good news! Bravo reran the season premiere of Millionaire Matchmaker last night—presumably in an effort to get us all to watch the twirling Olympic sprites on parent network NBC—which gives us the chance to fill in a little blank in the recap archive. So, sit back and listen to the ballad of Nick and Omar.
Nick Friedman (yes, he’s Jewish) and Omar Soliman are definitely pretty-lookin’ people; so pretty-lookin’, in fact, that their multimillion-dollar business is called College Hunks Hauling Junk. They’re high-school buddies who, at 27, have blossomed into entrepreneurs, though it probably didn’t hurt that their high school was Sidwell Friends, one of the most prestigious prep schools in Washington, D.C., where their classmates included Chelsea Clinton and Al Gore III. But they’ve clearly worked hard to build the brand, and now deserve to enjoy the fruits of their labor.
Enter Patti Stanger, the titular Matchmaker, who knows from fruit: she’s getting nachas in heaven, and nachas in life. In this case, “nachas” means a sparkly new four-carat diamond ring her fiancé, Andy Friedman (no relation to Nick, we think), picked up for her in Israel. (“It’s a non-conflict stone,” Patti told People).
But the true do-gooder—as profiled by the Daily Beast—needs no rest; she’s got work to do, too. See, Omar is a freak about women wanting him for his money, and Nick is a little immature. Also, they live in Tampa. Ick!
Luckily, Omar’s uncle has a house in L.A., and the boys have flown in. First up, Omar: he’s half-Egyptian and half-Italian, he’s clean-cut, and he has a Maserati. W00t! But, not so fast. See, his idea of a dream date is “Take Your Girl to Work Day.” Like, he wants her to haul junk with him. Like, actual trash. “If you’re testing girls that way, this is the reason you’re single,” Patti tells him. She suggests he take his girl on a hot-air balloon ride, because of some crackpot theory about how thin air gets the love pheromones pumping.
Next, Nick. This boy, who grew up in leafy northwest D.C. and went to Pomona College in California, shows up in his audition video speaking fluent faux-thug. Patti is appalled. “You’re JEWISH,” she shouts. Nick didn’t want to be on the show—he’s just supporting his boy Omar, who needs serious help. Although, he says, some of his friends have gotten engaged recently. And, he admits, his mom does harass him about his dating “Barbie dolls” who aren’t smart enough for him. Patti decides to break him of his bimbo addiction. No sex before monogamy, she intones. Nick’s eyes bulge out of his head. See, he’s got franchises all over the country, and monogamy isn’t part of that business model.
Patti skitters off to find these two some girls. For Omar, she picks Rachel, a pretty brunette who “radiates exotic sensuality.” For Nick, there’s Dakota, a German-Puerto Rican choreographer who’s a few years older. On to the mixer! Everyone’s cleaned up nicely, but—oh, no. Nick didn’t get his hair cut! “This is my Greek-god, Julius Caesar hair,” he insists. “It’s a Jewfro, man!” Patti retorts. Thankfully, you can get lots of things delivered in L.A. these days, including haircuts; stylist Tiffany shows up and solves the problem.
Newly shorn, Nick flourishes, like a reverse Samson. There he is, rollin’ in a bright-red Bentley! Now he’s taking his girl to the Hollywood sign! Here they are at Kress! And, what? Dakota isn’t in a relationship because she’s always traveling for work? “Well, to be honest, that’s probably better for me, because that’s how my life is,” Nick says. And then he promptly sticks his tongue down her throat.
Meanwhile, Omar. Silly Omar ignored Patti and picked up exotic, sensual Rachel in a garbage truck. “You’re the hottest hunk I’ve ever seen,” Omar says. “Tha-anks,” replies Rachel, slipping a bright green suit on over her cocktail dress. And off they go to work. There’s something winning about Omar’s relentless naïveté. “It’s been a while since I’ve been out in the field,” he admits. “I kind of forgot how bad it can be.” How bad can it be? Well, he shatters a big-screen TV, and he admits that that was wrong of him. “This freakin’ sucks,” he observes. But Rachel proves she is a good sport, and she is rewarded with dinner at Il Cielo in Beverly Hills. Unfortunately, she does not return the favor: it is an early night for the two. “Going to dinner with Omar felt like a guy friend,” Rachel tells the camera. And Omar starts asking the right questions: “Am I just an idiot?” he wonders. Well, Omar, yes.