Prince Preferred; Frogs Considered

The lumpy manila envelope was addressed to Karen Nelson, P. O. Box 297, Westford, ME. I looked at the return address: The Westford Bugle, 377 Main Street, Westford, ME. Finally, a response to the ad I had composed for the personals' column of The Bugle. I did a little skip from the mail box back to my door, let myself in and dove for the couch. My hands shook a little with excitement as I carefully tore open the envelope. Inside was a copy of my ad and eight envelopes all addressed to "Single and Looking" in care of the Bugle Personals.

I stopped to look at my ad, and smiled at my cleverness. The item said: "Single lady seeks single man 35 to 45 for friendship, and possibly more. Must be non-smoker with a sense of humor. Prince preferred; frogs considered." And now I had 8 letters from prince or frog responders. Sorting through the envelopes, I studied the handwriting for clues to the personalities of the men the letters represented.

The first to catch my eye wasn't a letter but a postcard with a single sentence on the back: "When I read your ad, I almost croaked!" That elicited a giggle, and I studied the return address-or what should have been a return address. All that were written were a name and a phone number.

I began to sort the responses into two piles: the maybes and the definitely not. I quickly decided the croaker was a "maybe." After all, the cryptic message was evidence of a sense of humor.

The next envelope was light blue with a typewritten address. I pried open the envelope and pulled out four pages of text in a very precise, neat script. "Dear Miss Single Lady, I am a 60-year-old widower who is looking for a companion. My dear wife passed away three months ago, and I miss her terribly. The days and nights here on the farm have been so empty with Ethel gone. . ." He continued for the better part of three pages to describe his relationship with his beloved Ethel and how much he needed someone to fill her shoes. "I struggle to do my laundry, keep my house presentable, and my pantry is depleted. I don't know the first thing about grocery shopping or cooking, as Ethel took care of all these duties. I realize that I am older than the man you are seeking, but I own my own farm, with cows, pigs, and chickens. A large garden outside the pantry waits your tending, and I know that I could support you financially without difficulty. . ." That one was a definitely not!

I looked at the remaining envelopes. One was addressed "single and looking" with a sharpie pen in green ink. The one page note inside was rather brief: "Saw your ad, read your requirements, and wondered if you would consider a spotted green prince with a long tongue?" Under that were the words, "Call David; he just might be your prince," followed by a phone number. I stared at the note, written with panache in green ink, and after a second's hesitation, dropped it on the maybe pile.

This was beginning to be fun! I checked out the remaining correspondence, and they were pretty boring. No sense of humor was evident, and with one, even his literacy was questionable. I found one more candidate for the maybe pile; the rest landed in the definitely not! And that included the fellow who admitted to being married, but just was "looking for a little action on the side to make life more interesting."

The only thing left to do at that point was to start dialing, so I picked one from the maybe list and punched in the numbers.

"Hello?"

"Hi; is this the croaking frog?"

There were a few seconds of silence there, and I could almost hear the wheels turning as his brain tried to comprehend what he was hearing. "Oh, yeah. That's me! Is this the prince-seeking single lady?"

"In person. I loved your postcard, but it didn't give me much to go on. Tell me about yourself."

"The Reader's Digest version or the unabridged edition?"

"Give me the Reader's Digest Condensed Version, and I'll decide whether I want to hear the unabridged edition later."

He gave a low chuckle and then offered, "I'm a 42-year old divorced frog, who's been sitting on his lily pad all alone for 4 years. I have no children; I sell office furniture for a living, and like to laugh. So how about telling me about you?"

"Divorced for 6 months; 1 six-year-old daughter, work as a not quite gone-postal person." I replied, thinking how that didn't really say much about me.

"Whoa! Does that mean you could go-postal at any moment?"

"One never knows, but I feel stable at the moment," I laughed.

After that we chatted for at least 30 minutes, discussing our taste in movies, tv shows, music, sports, etc., trying to determine if there were any commonalities. The conversation was easy; there were no awkward pauses. Finally, I agreed to meet "the frog" at Decosta's Diner for lunch, the following Saturday. Decosta's was a local hamburger joint that did a fairly brisk business, so it seemed a safe, public place for a rendezvous with a stranger in broad daylight. We agreed we would both wear green, to make it easier to recognize each other.

I donned my favorite Kelly green sweater, black jeans, and a pair of green Hush Puppies and I headed to Decosta's on Saturday. When I arrived, my stomach was aflutter. I found a parking place, did a last minute check of my hair and lipstick in the vanity mirror. Was I out of my mind to be meeting someone from a personals ad? A part of me wanted to start up the car and drive home; but a larger part of me was curious to meet this "croaking frog."