I'm refreshingly approachable! I'm a two-in-one shampoo! Marry me!

In which the hapless author slavishly obeys a new bestseller that instructs husband-hunting women over 35 to market themselves like a brand.

By Cole Kazdin

Oct 27, 2003 | Cole Kazdin is smart, funny, creative and very together. She's the kind of woman I never thought would date me, but was, in fact, waiting patiently for me to ask her out the whole time. "Cole Kazdin: Refreshingly approachable!"

My creative team has been working overtime on my ad campaign. After I conduct extensive focus-group testing, my pal Todd Levin, ad writer extraordinaire, turns my pages of research into a catchy paragraph and some suggested tag lines.

"Cole Kazdin: What you want. What your friends want for you."

"Cole Kazdin: Are you fucking crazy? I'm hot."

"Cole Kazdin: As reflective as a wading pool, not nearly as shallow."

I decide to go with "refreshingly approachable" because it's nonthreatening and brings to mind a glass of nice, cold soda. And everybody loves soda.

This is one of the 15 steps I am trying from the not-so-cryptically titled New York Times bestseller "Find a Husband After 35 Using What I Learned at Harvard Business School: A 15-Step Action Program," by Rachel Greenwald. Steps include packaging, branding, telemarketing and quarterly performance reviews, and I have agreed to give it a whirl.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I am close to but not yet 35, and I'm not looking for a husband. I have a wonderful boyfriend who is good-natured and supportive, especially when I come home and announce I am writing an article for which I have to go through 15 steps toward finding a husband. The book itself is a little frightening in its directness. And that's just the cover. I look over my shoulder self-consciously in the bookstore as I pick up the book with "husband" in the title and a gold wedding band on the jacket. A man walks by and I reach for "The South Beach Diet" instead. I realize I must be in the "women's insecurity" section. "The South Beach Diet" promises you'll lose 8-13 pounds in the first two weeks. "Find a Husband" promises you'll find a life partner in 12-18 months. I look up at the sign overhead and discover I am not in the women's-insecurity section at all, but rather the "bestsellers." Scary. I get both books anyway. "It's a gift," I tell the man at the checkout loudly. "Could I get a gift receipt?" I want to convey to him and everyone in line behind me that I am married and thin. This is too embarrassing.

I learn in Chapter 1 of Greenwald's book, however, that this is entirely the wrong approach. The idea of her "Program," as she calls it, is to let as many people as you can find know that you're single and looking for a husband.

I decide to condense Greenwald's 12-18 months into a two-week crash course. This will be perfect because I can also do Phase 1 of the South Beach Diet right alongside it. No bread, pasta, potatoes, rice, fruit or alcohol. Skinny jeans and life partner, here I come! The first step is to make finding a husband my first priority. I want so much to do this in earnest, but it's difficult to keep a straight face. I can go so far as to make the experiment itself a priority for a couple of weeks and try -- really try -- to suspend my disbelief. Greenwald says that if you're serious about finding a husband, you must also create a budget and separate checking account devoted to your quest -- this money is for personal care, thank-you notes to people who set you up on dates, and the welding class at Home Depot you take to meet men (more on that later). I put $40 in an envelope and put it aside. That's all I can afford right now. Today is the first day of my new life and I don't miss bread and pasta one bit.

The following day I find a mentor. According to the program, your mentor should be a woman, preferably married, who will guide you and support you on your journey. You sign a written agreement with your mentor to contractually commit to meeting on a regular basis and working toward the common goal of finding you a husband.

"Are you crazy?" asks my good friend Jane. She can't believe this book exists, much less that I'm going through the steps. But she owes me big because I wore a floor-length green ball gown in her wedding last month. She agrees. We sign the contract for two weeks.

Rooted in marketing techniques, the core of the program deals with packaging yourself in an attractive, wifelike way, then literally creating a brand for yourself and, finally, saturating the market with your ad campaign.

"I wish I could tell you that your inner self is what really counts," writes Greenwald in the book. Which isn't to say that you have to be a supermodel, but she says you should look the best that you can look. In creating the "packaging" ("look") for my "product" (me), I approach male and female friends for feedback and criticism, as the book instructs. There is even a sample script to encourage honest answers:

Tim, I really value your opinion ... I have decided that this is the year I am going to find someone to spend my life with. Before I start, I want to make some changes in my appearance. This is really important to me and I need your sincere opinion ...

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