Author’s Preface to letters

I lost my baby. I cried. A lot. Real tears. I am not
kidding.

A friend said, “Misery is a life of choice.” He suggested I
use a dating service. That’s how he found his wife. I had
not known that.

So I called MatchMaker. “How much?” I said.

Jane was on the other end of the line. Nice voice. “We
don’t discuss fees over the telephone,” she said. “We’d like
you to come in for an interview. No charge.” She asked
me about myself, and I told her everything. “You sound in-
teresting,” she said, with a hint of breathlessness.

“Ha! Ha!” she said, without offense. She
went on to explain the operation — a little.
“This is a personal service,” she said. “We
don’t use videotape; we don’t use computers.”

What is wrong with videos and computers,
I thought? What are they for? But I was
hopeful, and optimistic, and needful, and gen-
erous to a fault. I let her talk.

I live in the boondocks. My “personal
interview” required a 100-mile trip, one way,
to a city I rarely visited, either on business or

I filled out some forms – name, age, height,
weight, hair color, eye color, race, occupation,
likes, dislikes, etc. “How much?” I said, exci-
ted.

“A six-month membership is $885,” Jane
said. “Twelve months is $1,185. And we
guarantee you at least one introduction a
month.”

Gulp (hope she didn’t notice that). “I’d
like to think about it,” I said. “Can I go ahead

“Yes,” she said. “But you’ll have to come
back for a final interview when you do that.”

“Why can’t we do that now?”

“We can.”

“If I pay you now.”

“Uh huh.”

On the way home I thought about it. I
thought, first, I did not like the business end of

I took my friend’s second suggestion: Scan
the personals classifieds. I found an ad pla-
ced by a woman named Sara, saying she was
looking for a man who realized that a sense of
humor was a vital living skill. I sent her a very
funny book, that I had written myself. No re-
sponse.

At the Gate. Meet singles sharing values on peace,
ecology, personal growth, and human rights. Free
details. . . .

Cultured singles nationwide. Older women / young-
er men; younger women / older men. LSASE to . . . .

Scandinavia, Poland, USSR, South America: World-
wide correspondence for sincere, unattached, educa-
ted members. . . .

I do not do anything halfway. On May 14,
1990, I queried nearly two dozen services, by
mail and telephone. And I sent my own per-

The whole deal cost $480.95 – $262 for the
subscriptions, $34 in forwarding fees (to servi-
ces that did not publish names and addresses,
but mediated the replies through codes), and
$184.95 for the advertising. A bargain, con-
sidering the results, and compared to the price
of the one dating service I visited (dating servi-

By June 25, more than a month before the
ads were to be published, I had established
regular correspondence with a dozen women I
had met through the listings. The time and en-
ergy I was devoting to this correspondence
were overwhelming. I called the magazines
to cancel the ads.

“Too late,” they said. Well, that’s fate.

These services work. They are not new.
They are not, by and large, computerized mat-
ching services, but merely time-honored listings
of lonely hearts. You pick and choose your
own. You know (ideally) what you want, and
so does the party on the other end of the line.
You know that the other party wants to meet
someone. You have an idea of whom you
are about to meet before you attempt contact.
These services are not singles bars or church
socials, but they are largely more efficient.

I wrote 55 letters to women whose listings

I received replies to 24 of my initiating let-
ters, and wound up corresponding regularly
with 12 of the writers. Of the 55 ladies who
wrote me first, I invited further correspon-

Six of the 24 replies to my initiating letters
were polite “No, thank you” notes, some with
words of kindness and wisdom. I replied to
all but three of the 55 ladies who wrote me
first.

I made all my initial contacts (not counting
the ads) by letter, none by telephone. I re-
gard personal telephone calls, even among
established friends in many instances, as rude.

Some of the women I met said they had en-
countered only two or three men through the
lonely hearts listings, even after the better part
of a year. But the ones who said that said al-
so that they waited for the men to make the

All these ladies were, all the correspondence
was, well worth my time and energy. I was
enjoying the shopping so much that I had deci-
ded to delay the purchase. But one of the
138 got me back on the first track.

Dear Ms. 1381-FL:

I’m pretty and fun, too, and blue-eyed, but
not auburn-haired. More like sandy brown.
And a gray beard.

I hate Florida, and the people I live among
are so ignorant they take their Florida vaca-
tions in the summer. . . .

I’m 4755-KY, I reckon, and code-named
“Pudd’n’head.” I’m shy but not bashful, so
you’ve got my real name and address on the
letterhead (and please forgive me the use of

If you’re curious, write, and I’ll send you a
photo.

Sincerely,

Natty Bumppo

Dear Natty,

OK, I’m curious. Besides, you’re pretty,
fun and blue eyed too! I may let your really
low remarks about Florida pass. No — I
can’t stand it! I bet you’re one of those types
that comes down here, drives funny, complains
about everything, and then tells us how they do
it back home!

I couldn’t resist because I’m crazy about
shy men. You’re literate, you play the banjo
and guitar, you love films and good books, and
your cat wrote a book! I’m very impressed
with your résumé! I had a brief stint as an

I went back to school a month ago . . . . I
plan to start a nursing program in January. . . .
Now I’m in the class from hell, Human Anat-
omy & Physiology. . . . The second day the
professor introduced me to my dead cat that I
am now dissecting. . . . I think they do it for
shock value. “You want to be a nurse? Ha!
Skin this cat!” They made me do it – I was-

I was married for 15 years and have been
divorced for 2˝ . . . . I have no children but
I’m close to my five nephews and one niece.
I have the best parents in the world. My Dad
is 75 years old and he’s in a third career as a
security guard. My Mom is a kindergarten
teacher and makes the best chocolate chip
cookies in the world. . . .

I like men who are conservative (not polit-
ically). I don’t like men who run around on
women. I’d deck him, rip his heart out etc.
I’ve met several men who have been hurt so
much that they’re afraid to love anyone again.

I discovered country music this year. It was
all due to my car battery going dead. I lost
the programming on my radio and the mechan-
ic had the radio tuned to a country music sta-
tion. I’m so unmechanical I couldn’t figure
out how to reprogram the radio. By the end
of the week I was hooked on country music.
It’s so unstressful. I understand the lyrics. . . .

This is turning out to be a long letter – some

Since you live outside a small town, I’m
worried about you – do they have a decent
library, bookstore and movie theatre? I bet
there’s no McDonald’s. How about a con-
venience store? Are the people laid back and
easygoing? Are there traffic jams? . . .

Natty, I enjoyed your letter and I hope
you’ll write again.

Mary Houston

P.S. What do you mean, you’re fearless?

June 13, 1990

Dear Mary,

No need to apologize about the length of
your letter. I don’t get enough letters, and I
think I would still say that if I were Santa
Claus.

I wouldn’t go over Niagara Falls in a barrel
unless it was necessary (like camping). . . .