Hakim’s niece was about to marry a Persian boy she’d met at school. She’d done things right, however, unlike some of her cousins. She hadn’t fallen in love beforehand. She’d accepted the offer of marriage, after considering a number of formal suitors, based on the young man’s impressive credentials, not his charm, or knowledge of date palms. She had no doubt that her chosen groom was lucky to be getting her. “I’m highly educated, I have a computer engineering degree, I’m beautiful, and my father’s a doctor.  What more could any man want?” she explained.

I found the girl’s confidence fascinating. I wanted to be just like her, someone who knew her merits and had no problem owning them. I wondered if she was an anomaly, if this was what happened when you had a powerhouse like hers for a mother, or if her attitude was simply the product of a culture that seemed to consider marriage a well thought out business arrangement, a comparison of two Excel spreadsheet of assets and liabilities.  From my perspective, choosing a spouse in Iran looked a lot like buying a new refrigerator. One decided which features he or she wanted, researched the offerings, sought out personal recommendations, studied the lines, measured the drawers, then purchased the one that most closely matched the needs at a price he or she could afford.

At the time, I started wondering what it was that I’d ever seen in Hakim, my then husband. What was it about Hakim that I’d ever thought would be good for me? That self-possession that had drawn me to him, that I’d admired and wanted for myself, was really, I’d come to realize, nothing more than dressed up narcissism.

I couldn’t help thinking that American girls could benefit from a good dose of this consumer mentality.

When I was younger, the excitement of knowing that someone, anyone, wanted me, combined with uneasiness about myself, made me lose all selectivity, all ability to recognize what I wanted in a mate. I was aware only of his desire for me and forgot all about the qualities he did or didn’t possess. Of course, once I knew a man wanted me, the only thing that mattered from that point on was that he would continue to feel that way about me. I behaved like a beggar, not a chooser, in the dating game.

Maybe I was the anomaly, not Hakim’s niece. Maybe I was the natural product of a fearful mother.

The truth is, our confidence level determines the kind of man that will be attracted to us. “The price tag you put on yourself will determine in large part the value of the people and the situations you’ll pick and tolerate,” claims Dr. Laura Schlesinger. I felt like crap about myself. I got the sort of man drawn to cowards.

Surprised at our compatibility, people often ask Walt and I how we met. Confident, successful, talented, intelligent, he isn’t the type of guy one trips over at the bowling alley.  It’s not an accident that we share so many interests, that we have a similar energy level.  I sought him out for these very qualities on Match.com.  What an Iranian idea. Choosing the characteristics you’d like, rather than making do with what you get.

The real trick when it comes to throwing up a romantic profile is that we actually have to possess some appealing qualities. I wasn’t ready to find a Walt until I started feeling good about myself. Not even close.

The market is saturated with former housewives.

Lovely women who can make a mean pot roast, but are lost in the world. Women who can’t understand how their currency got devalued. Women who woke up one morning and got hit by a bus.(And yes, there are plenty of men who fit this description, it applies to them as well.) If you believe in the Law of Attraction, think of what bewilderment draws?

Here are five things that allowed me to attract a fabulous partner when the time was right:

1. I actually liked myself. I had accomplished some amazing things after rediscovering my interests.
2. I knew what I wanted. I’d studied some really good men. I defined in words their finest qualities.
3. I knew, without a doubt, I could stand on my own two feet.  I’d bought my own house, went on vacations alone, and earned enough money to keep me whole.
4. I accepted those aspects of my self that would never change. I worked on the things I didn’t like.
5. I expected more.

What could you  bring into your life that would convince you–not anyone else–that you have worth? What would it take for you to want to date yourself? A new talent? A sense of inner peace? An adventure resume to put Charles Lindbergh to shame?  Then, if you have the time and inclination, design a mate. You get to choose the color, the drawer size, and the lines.