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NYRB

By Marc Levy

Here is a true story: I put a personal ad in the New York Review of Books:

SWM, 53, Gloucester, MA, trim, bright, affectionate, easy on the eye, 'Nam vet, a bit stressed out, seeks attractive SWF with similar traumatic background for LTR.

Nine women replied. A war correspondent from Zimbabwe who visits the United States every six months said, "Would you like to be my pen pal?" A wealthy woman in Maine said her ex worked as a shrink in New York. "Maybe you should see him," she said. "If he thinks you're not crazy, we can date." A woman in Ipswich, Massachusetts wrote: "Does it have to be a specific trauma or just some ordinary thing? OK, I have to go now, the Patriots are on." A gal from Long Island sent a whale-sized JPEG and her unlisted number. She didn't know where Gloucester was. "But I hope you call real soon," she said. A woman in Florida said her husband was ex-CIA, stressed out from combat in Asia, Africa, Central America, gave her permission to have an affair. "I weigh one hundred fifty pounds and have nice breasts," she said. Her husband liked to watch her get it on. She said after we had fun in Florida they would come visit my place. I tore that one up quick. A woman from San Diego wrote a long, witty letter. Her name was Sandy. She was sweet and bright and had once worked in Hollywood. We traded one hundred emails. We had long phone conversations. I googled Sandy. She had made lots of movies, and was the ex-wife of Robert Blake. He acted unkindly toward her, and in 1984 Sandy bailed out.

The short of it: After a time, because Sandy was so damn quick and insightful, could talk the horns off a stuffed elk in late July, it was impossible to like her. She nailed me on that. "I'm doing all the work and you're not," she said. I said, "You're right. The spark is gone."

So the trip, the one she proposed where we meet at a Motel 6 in Milwaukee, separate rooms (which I reserved), no hanky-panky, see if we connect, got nixed. We parted amicably, as much as two people on either end of the United States can amicably part.

No problem with the reserved rooms, but the airline would not refund my plane ticket. Nor would the credit card people. I said please, they said no. I said I'll cough up but cancel the account. They did. The end.