WLTM - a short story by Meave Binchy

This is the story of Mack Ryan, aged 39 (no, really), who turns to the confusing world of the lonely hearts page in search of love.

Mack read the Lonely Hearts page in disbelief. Were there really slim Asiatic bridges waiting for him out there? Could the buxom, full-figured, young-at heart-woman really mean it when she said that age was unimportant in a partner as long as he had oomph? And what exactly was oomph? Did the attractive, independent female sound a bit picky when she called out for a man who was trim, successful and drove his own car?

It was a strange world where  even the language of the ads was impossible to understand. A lot of the advertisements had the initials “WLTM” written in bold print. Mack knew a bit about those shortcuts from the time he had bought a house. “OFCH” meant “oil-fired central heating”. But the language of love was beyond him. No point in trying to enter a game where you didn't even know the rules.

But that night he walked around his big, lonely, empty house and paused in his what had been described as a “liv/din” and had turned out to be a living room with a dining table at one end. He paced what were called the “AWF” which had meant “all wooden floors” and felt safe from the winds behind his “DG” windows.Mack sighed a big deep sigh and thought of all those women wanting fun and a family, shared laughter, brisk walks, listening to music, experimenting with cooking. He got a real ache.

Surely they couldn't all be phoney? Or some fiendish disguise for international sex trafficking?And did anyone ever answer them and find happiness?

Maybe the only way to find out was actually to answer one. Or maybe put in an ad himself. He read the advertisements from women seeking men. They all wanted someone caring, with a “GSOH”, whatever that was – he scarcely dared to think.They talked about needing someone who was slim and fit and substantial. Perhaps these meant something totally different in Date Speak. Mack looked at himself in the mirror. He wasn't slim. Not that he was really fat but, if he were being honest, he was more square.“Fit”? Fit for what exactly? He was strong, certainly. He needed to be strong, lifting all those crates and boxes all day. And what did “substantial” mean when you thought abut it?

He had worked hard in his uncle's fish shop since the day he left school. He had been the first to arrive and the last to leave. His uncle left him the shop and now he was, by any standards, a substantial man of 39. His house bought and paid for and a business of his own. But maybe they didn't mean that at all, these winsome lovelies. Maybe they were looking for someone in merchant banking or a tribunal lawyer. It was so hard to know.Mack always closed his business on a Monday because fresh fish was hard to get that day. So he went into the magazine to discuss placing his ad.

At the counter was a girl in a tartan skirt and a black polo-neck sweater. She looked tired and cross and nervy and she jumped every time the phone rang. 

“Front counter,” she would say fearfully and then her face sort of collapsed in disappointment as she dealt with whatever the query was.

“I was going to put in a Lonely Heart advertisment,” Mack began.

She passed him a form.“Have you it written?” she asked.

“No. I was wondering if you could discuss it with me.

Please. I mean, if that's allowed...” he asked humbly.

She gave him a half-smile.“Sure it's allowed. What do you want to discuss exactly?”

“Well, the words really. Take this ad that a man put in last week. I don't really understand it.

‘Gentleman, worldly, thoughtful, aged 39, likes wine and foreign travel WLTM similar female, GSOH, slim, N/S for fun-loving relationship...' What does it mean exactly?” Mack was apologetic that he was so dim.

The girl in the tartan skirt didn't seem to mind. She examined the cutting carefully.

“Let me see. If he says he's a gentleman he's not, he's a yobbo. Worldly means he likes porn and strip clubs. Aged 39 means he's over 50. Likes wine means that he's a near-alco. Fun-loving relationship means sex on the first meeting and no mention whatsoever of marriage at any time.” Her mouth was set in a hard line.

“Surely not?” Mack said astounded.

“You did ask.”

 “And all these initials?” He was almost terrified to hear what she said.

She studied it again.

“Oh that's just a way of keeping down the word cost. N/S means non-smoker, GSOH is a good sense of humour – as if any of them would know one if it  tapped them on the shoulder – and WLTM means would like to meet. Is that okay?”

“And does everyone realise that is what people mean and everything?”

“Basically, yes,” she nodded.

“It makes life very sad,” Mack said.

 “Life IS very sad,” said the girl in the tartan skirt.

“Do you still want to risk it?”

“Risk what?”

“Putting in an ad. I mean that's what you came in for, that's why you're here. And it's my job to make you spend as much as possible. Take a display ad, for example, to make your ad stand out from the others. That's what I'm here for.”

“That's not really fair though, is it?” Mack said.

“Are you in any kind of business?” she asked despairingly.

“I'm a fishmonger,” he said.

“Well, don't you want to sell more fish? Isn't that what it's about?”

“It's what some of it's about, certainly... Sorry, what's your name?”

“My name is neither here nor there, sir. Are you going to put in an ad or are you not?”

“Yes I am. I'm sorry if I offended you, I didn't mean to. It's just that we were talking about such important things I felt foolish not knowing your name. Forgive me, I have no social skills. It wasn't intended as an insult.”

“That's alright, I'm a bit snappy today. I'm wating for a phone call that hasn't come yet and I'm a bit on edge.”

“That's perfectly understandable.”

“So whats your name anyway and we'll get the form filled in?”

“Mack Ryan,” he said. “But I didn't necessarily want everyone to know...”

“Not for publication,” she sighed. “I'm Olivia by the way.”

“Oh of course, not for publication. Thank you... er... Olivia.” She took him through the possibilities.

Substantial businessman own company? No, he didn't want that. It was too boastful. It was only a small fishmongers after all.Wide interests? No, he had quite narrow interests really – getting to the market early, knowing what to buy, how to fillet it quickly for a customer, how to do a nice window with lots of ice and parsley around it. These weren't wide interests. Suppose the woman thought he knew about opera or fencing or something?Fast Lane? Out of the question. He was nowhere near a fast lane, he was in the slowest of the slow lanes. The person who responded might think he knew about casinos and had several tuxedos.Sociable? Hardly. He went home at night when the shop was sorted and he sat in his big house and wished he had the energy or the courage to go somewhere to meet laughing people but he just hadn't. By no strength of the imagination could you call that sociable.Romantic? No, that wouldn't be fair on whoever answered. She would be expecting someone passionate with words at will. Mack didn't have those kind of skills.

“Well, what will we say then?” Olivia was coming to the end of her patience, Mack could see that. Fortunately the telephone rang  just then.

“Front counter,” she said and her whole face changed.

“Well hallo!” she said, delighted.This must be the call she had been waiting for. Mack was pleased for her.

He took the form and began to write laboriously and truthfully what he wouldn't mind someone reading about him. He wrote on and on and only heard bits of her conversation.It had to do with her getting two days off specially from tonight and no she wasn't disappointed because his work came first, she knew that for heaven's sake. It was just rather sudden.But of course it wasn't his fault, she knew that.Then she slammed down the phone and her eyes were very overbright.

“Give me the bloody form and let's see what you've written,” she said, snatching it from him.She read it in silence, almost as if not trusting herself to speak. Mack looked at her hopefully. Possibly she would be annoyed because he had not used any of her suggestions. She was still holding the form and her hands were shaking slightly.

 “Lonely man aged 39 (that is my real age honestly – I was born in 1967) would love to meet a nice, warm, cheerful woman who would share things with me from now on. I am decent and well-meaning but I know that may not be enough. I am not someone who would be considered a great catch but I would be faithful and respectful and reasonably good fun. I will answer every letter, if I get more than one.”

Olivia seemed beyond speech. Eventually she managed to say something. Her voice sounded different to the way she had spoken before. Quieter, less confident.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Its nearer than any of the nice things you suggested putting in. Fairer, sort of, when you think about it.”

“Very few people think of what's fair and what's not fair, Mack,” she said. “Well, if you are thinking of getting married you'd want to start off without any grey areas, wouldn't you?”

“I don't think this ad would necessarily attract the babes,” Olivia said doubtfully.

“Babes?”

“No, well maybe, unlike every other man who ever put an ad in this magazine, maybe you actually don't want a babe.”

“Oh if I'm married I'd love babies,” he said. Something about Olivia's face alerted him that they were not talking about the same thing. Neither of them took it any further.The money changed hands, the box number was arranged.

“It'll go in tomorrow,” Olivia said.

“I'll come back next Monday and see did anyone reply,” Mack said and he shook her hand.She looked very sad, and he had yet another empty evening.So did she, since the person on the telephone had obviously cancelled whatever was planned. Should he ask her out?But no, it would be taking advantage. And she had a poor opinion of men. Leave things as they were.

The following Monday, Mack came back into the office. He had hardly slept all night in case there might be a reply. Someone who would change his life.  Olivia was there.She wore a much smarter outfit – a dark purple suit, a lacey white blouse and nice chunky jewellery. The man who had stood her up must have been mad.Mack hoped that he didn't look too eager and foolish about the replies. He knew he would probably never see this girl again but he didn't want her to think badly of him.

“Was there any... um... I mean, did any reply come in?”

Olivia looked at him without a trace of pity in her eyes. In fact she spoke as if everyone had been doing this since time began.

“No there wasn't, but that goes to show what eejits people are. But listen, I have a few hours off and I thought I'd take you out to lunch with me today.”

“Me?” Mack Ryan asked in disbelief.

“Yes. I dressed up and I booked us a restaurant and we can have a proper chat and not worry about this mad world of the WLTMs and GSOHs and the like.

”“Well that's very nice of you, Olivia. I suppose I should have expected that nobody would  want to meet anyone like me... But I must say the thought of a lunch with you, and you looking as lovely as you do, would really be a treat.”

He smiled his honest smile and as she left the office she kicked the two sacks of mail that had arrived for him out of sight.She would deal with and probably destroy all of those later.Well, they did say that all was fair in this kind of thing didn't they?