To that end, Wicks has adapted the boot-camp training she received from Greenwald in 2009 to focus on the general public. Late last year, for example, she received a request from a high-school junior. But even after downgrading her price, Wicks's fees are still similar to those of a psychiatrist: Initial consultations cost $200, and coaching runs $75 an hour from there. Still, her role as Boulder's only full-time dating coach affords flexibility while she develops her brand.
After working in retail, the 42-year-old Wicks attended the National Matchmaker's Conference in 2009, where she met Greenwald and decided to sign up for her boot camp, then try out a new career. "I had seen so many bad dating profiles and been on so many bad dates myself, and I had helped friends with their profiles," explains Wicks. She met her own future husband on Match.com.
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Once Wicks commited to matchmaking, the first step — even before looking for clients — was to print business cards, then create a logo for the website that would attract daters to her service. As Greenwald teaches her students, marketing is important: If you build it, they will come. The next step is to ensure self-confidence. If a matchmaker doesn't believe in her business, none of her clients will. "I'm kind of a shy person, so it's hard to put myself out there," Wicks says, comparing herself to Greenwald. "I still feel like I'm behind. I'm no marketing maven, but the only person holding me back is me."
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If you cannot afford a $9 salad, you cannot afford me," says Chris Wilhoite, waving her right hand in disdain as her left hand balances a teacup. And then she issues a truly weighty sigh. Just because they help other people perfect their love lives doesn't mean that matchmakers' own love lives are perfect. Earlier this year, Wilhoite went to Applebee's on an ill-fated date (among other things, the man wore an entirely black-and-white outfit and attempted to convince her the look was big in Italy), and she has yet to completely recover.
Episodes like this one, though, provide the fodder that Wilhoite uses to relate to her clients, and this is extraordinarily important for her. Wilhoite's business, while still young, caters specifically to Mormon clients, and her 23 years in the LDS community have given her a head start on exclusive rights to the love lives of Denver's Mormon population.
"I see this niche as untapped," she says. "Marriage is viewed differently for an LDS family because they say 'till death do us part,' but we say 'for time and all eternity.'" That's a big difference, she notes, and a fear of divorce leads many Mormon singles to place extra — and conservative — pressure on the concept of marriage. "Their modesty standard includes longer skirts, capped sleeves instead of sleeveless," she explains. "You wouldn't meet someone in a club, because we don't drink. When you're sitting by yourself on a church bench, it's lonely. It's just enough of a difference to matter, and I know their background and doctrine."
Wilhoite, who converted to the religion at 22, marks a trend in modern matchmaking that is quickly moving daters toward more niche-oriented ventures. Online, vegetarians can find love at veggieconnection.com, while seniors have a huge variety of age-specific options. LDS daters can be matched on LDS Singles and LDS Planet, while Jewish daters have J-Date. And if you're an Anglophile, look no further than DateBritishGuys.com. "No matchmaker should be tapping into the same market as any other," Greenwald says. "If you do, you're doing it wrong."
Right now, Wilhoite describes herself and her slowly moving business as a "tortoise" — but if Greenwald is the hare, then there are lots of turtles. "That's the wonderful thing about this business," Wilhoite says. "There's nobody saying 'Do this right now.'"
When Wilhoite takes a seat in her living room, she automatically chooses the exact center of a wildly flowery couch, which places her head immediately below her head inside a framed portrait of Wilhoite and her late husband, Nolan, hugging as their four children posed around them in matching outfits. For Wilhoite, who was married for thirteen years before Nolan passed away from pancreatic cancer, absence has made the heartbreak grow fonder.
"I had a great marriage, and I want to spend my living watching people fall in love," she says. "I still think the sun rises and sets by my guy. Rachel asked me if I still have pictures of him in my house, and she wants me to take them down, but from an LDS perspective, that's not something we'd do."
Although her specialty comes with its advantages, it also brings a generous share of awkwardness. Despite attending church in the area, Wilhoite is uncomfortable directly recruiting church members for the business she started after attending Greenwald's boot camp a year ago. Instead, she has organized a "fireside," a church discussion group, to teach constituents about creating an online dating profile in hopes that they might also approach her for more coaching.
During the four years she has spent training other matchmakers, Greenwald's students have come from a wide spectrum of specialties and backgrounds — but the most common constituency, she says, is mothers like her who are searching for a career that can be completed from inside the house without any strict routine.