by Angel Devlin
So there you have it. The irony in that in matching up other people, this lovely lady has no time for love herself. If you’re interested in any of her services contact [email protected].
I wanted to clap my hands together. Her matchmaking service sounded utterly amazing. So romantic. Just imagine writing a letter to someone who could end up being your future husband! Then when you had children you could show them the letters, and they could be saved for their children’s children, ‘Look how your ancestors got together; it was so romantic’. I was so overcome I clutched a hand to my chest. Looking behind me, I could see that Jodi was lost in her designs, enjoying her own feelings of joy. So I quickly opened my email and began composing a message for Grace Graham.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Date: January 11, 2019
Subject: Joining your dating agency
Good morning Ms/Miss Graham
My name is Ella Cassidy and I have been reading about your letter writing matchmaking service. I’m not sure if you cover New York City with you being based in St. Louis, but I am hoping this is the case. I’m single (obvs, although maybe you do get applications from cheating spouses!), and I’m a born romantic. The idea of meeting my future husband through your service and the art of letter writing appeals to my romantic soul!
Anyhow, I would be very grateful if you could furnish me with further details.
Many thanks and wishing you a lovely day!
Kind regards
Ella.
I read it back through and pressed send. Then I concentrated on work although I checked my email around 476 times that day to see if Grace responded, but she didn’t. No doubt she was inundated with applications from people like me. But just as Grace liked to match couples together, I liked to match people with their perfect outfit, so my day was spent doing what I loved, with finding love on hold.
Chapter Two
Ella
Carrying takeout, I entered my apartment and shouted for my roommate. “Finn, you’d better have set the table, I have dinner.”
Finn Edwards was the cousin of my first roommate. She’d decided to go live with her boyfriend and transferred her tenancy to Finn. Thank God we got along. He was an untidy pig, but so was I, so what could have been a tricky situation was avoided by the fact we both lived like we needed to star in an episode of Hoarders. Finn never tidied up his books, DVDs, shoes, vinyl; I had pieces of material and part-projects everywhere. We kept the place relatively clean, but tidy we were not.
A door opened and Finn walked in to the hall dressed in pajama pants that slung low on his hips. I kept my eyes on his face, despite the fact the man was built. No way would I ever have made a move on my roommate. I loved where I lived and wouldn’t have done anything to jeopardize that, even if at times, it was hard to not ogle him. Finn Edwards was a sex god with his dark, almost black, wavy short hair and eyes that matched. When he looked at me when he wanted something, he’d play on those puppy dog eyes, but if anything riled him, you’d see their piercing depths.
“I know I’m hot, but please close your mouth, there’s a draft.”
Having realized I’d been in a daydream, I rolled my eyes at him and continued through to our kitchen diner where I placed the takeout on the small table.
“Don’t flatter yourself. Did you just get up, you lazy jerk?”
He rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, been staring at a laptop all day. Made me tired, so I quit early and went back to bed.” Finn was a self-employed book editor and worked from home.
“It’s okay for some.”
“Oh give it a rest, you love your job.” He took plates out of the cabinets and set them down on the table, then pulled out some silverware from a drawer.
“Wine?”
“Wine, not?” I replied.
“Oh God, no, just no. That is so bad.”
“Why are you grinning then?” I challenged him.
“Just being polite.” He poured us a glass of wine each.
We sat down and opened the takeout cartons, selecting what we wanted and loaded our plates.
“So how was your day?” Finn asked me. We had quite the routine going when we were both home at mealtimes, which we were most days. I’d bring food home with me and Finn would set the table and then we’d catch up on our days. I looked forward to it. It was nice to not be lonely and to have some company before I either went out for the evening, or as I did more often than not, escaped to my room with a book while Finn sat on the sofa playing video games. He’d asked me to join him a few times, but gaming was not my thing.
“Really good. We sold quite a few things today, and… a customer told me about a dating agency. I decided to get brave and I contacted the woman who owns it.”
Finn coughed on a noodle. “You did?”
I nodded while smiling. “I know. I actually did something toward getting a date, instead of just reading about love in my many romance novels.” I sighed. “I’m waiting for an email back to see if I can be included because the woman is from St. Louis.”
“Ah, you probably are out of area then.” Finn went back to his food.
I checked my phone.
“Oh my god! She replied!” I started reading.
“Read it out loud. I want to know what she said.” Finn yelled.
“Okay, calm down, Mr. Excitable.”
I read on.
“Dear Ella. Thank you so much for your enquiry. I would be happy to set you up with a suitor. In the first instance please fill in the attached application form with all your details and send this back to me as soon as you are able. Along with this, please mail me your first letter. This should be an introductory letter telling your match a little about yourself so they can get to know you. I will read your letter to check it meets the standards of my agency. These rules can be found here and include the fact that no information can be included that would tell the other where you live and no photographs or other items can be exchanged. Then there’s a link and an invoice.”
“Probably be an eighty-year-old bloke when the reveal happens.” Finn said scornfully.
“As long as he’s rich.” I bit back.
“Well, it’s your life, but I think you’re crazy. At least if you joined a regular site, you’d know what they looked like. How long you got to write letters for?”
“We have to exchange three and then we can meet.”
“What a ball ache.”
“Finn. I don’t know what you’re getting all annoyed at. It’s me that’s doing it, not you. You could at least be encouraging that I’m finally trying to do something about my love life.” I sat up straight quickly. “Hey, why don’t you do it too?”
Finn folded his arms across his chest. “Yeah, not happening. I can get plenty of dates without paying some dumb agency.” He finished his wine.
“Well, good for you because I can’t.”
There was a minute of silence while we both ate.
“I’m sorry, Ella. I’m being hesitant about it because I know how full of romance that head of yours is and I don’t want you to get hurt. But you’re right. You do deserve love. Go for it. What’s there to lose? I’ll tell you what. If you like, I’ll read your letter through for you and give you my input from a guy’s point of view. How’s that sound?”
“Really? Would you? That would be so helpful.”
“And as a thank you, you can empty the trash, and clean the wine glasses and silverware while I go play on the Xbox.” He pushed back his chair. “Thanks, Cinder-ella.”
“Jerk.” I shouted at his retreating back.
After I’d finished the clearing up, I retired to my bedroom to write my letter. I decided to type it into the computer first and then handwrite it because otherwise it could take forever. I’d show Finn the printout and then once I had a man’s view on it, I’d handwrite it. God, then I’d need to decide what to write it on. A notelet, a plain piece of paper? Would I be judged on wha
t I sent it on? It was something else I needed to ask Finn. For now, I just had to concentrate on my opening letter and how to sound so amazing, he wanted to date me (and even maybe in the future marry me).
Dear Stranger (this doesn’t sound right, ask Finn).
My name is Ella and I am writing you this letter in the hopes that we may share common interests and get to know each other a little better. If we get along after the three letters then hopefully we will already know that we are quite compatible? I do understand some might think it’s a strange way to get to know someone in this modern day and age, but do you know what? I’m tired of the swipe right mentality and the loss of romance.
It was no good, I needed Finn in here as I went along. I jumped off the bed and stuck my head out into the hall.
“Fiiiinnnnnnn.”
“What?”
“I need you.”
“What for?”
“My love letter.”
“Needs to sound more enticing than that.”
I bit my bottom lip. He was being a dick.
“Fiiiinnnn. I need you in my bedroom.”
I heard a thud and he came running to my door. My eyes watched his junk bounce about in his pants. I was such a perve.
“Well, why didn’t you say so?”
I shook my head. “You’re such a dufus. Come in and help me. I’m writing nonsense.”
“Oh my god, I am actually going in a girl’s bedroom. I’m so excited.” Finn skipped in. I couldn’t help but laugh.
He swung around to me in the doorway. “Where do you want me?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
I giggled. “Finn, I need you on the bed.”
He flicked his hair and pouted. “I was hoping you would say that.” He jumped on the bed and hutched up to the right near the wall, placing my laptop on his knee and reading. Then he looked up at me. “Dear God, Ella. If I received that I’d be looking for a bucket to vomit into.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“You say the word romance to the guy in the first paragraph. You’ve lost him.”
“Finn. I need romance in my life. If the guy doesn’t then he’s not for me.”
Finn patted the side of the bed. “Come here, squirt. Look, you lead up to that. Maybe letter number two, but here you want the guy to write back, right? So he needs to know you’ve got great tits, and an ass to die for.”
“Finn!”
Finn held up his hands. “Do you want my input, or not?”
I got on the bed and sat next to him. I’d never been this close before and the side of his body now touching mine was all warm and lovely. In fact, come to think of it, I’d never had a man in this bed. This was a first.
“You’re the first man who’s ever been in my bedroom.” I blurted out.
“Seriously? Even when Lara was here?”
“Even then. My love life is like a desert—harsh and unyielding.”
He laughed.
“Finn, it’s not funny.”
“Oh, sorry. I’m not laughing at that. It’s just the people I edit for often spell it dessert instead, you know like after a main meal, and then it would be a harsh and unyielding dessert, like it’s still frozen or something.”
I looked at him blankly.
“Oh you have to be there, I guess. It’s little things like that which amuse me during my working day.”
“Great, now back to me.” I elbowed him.
“Ouch.” He said, nipping my waist.
I tickled his neck to see if he was ticklish. He didn’t move.
He wiggled his fingers close to me.
“Please don’t.” I started giggling.
“Oh my god. I haven’t even tickled you and you’re already laughing.”
“I can’t help it, I know what’s coming.”
He wiggled his fingers closer and the laptop wobbled precariously on his lap.
“Watch my laptop.” I yelled. “Now, back to work.”
“Okay, let me try to type a combination of your stuff and what I would want to read. Don’t kill the messenger, okay? If you don’t like it, you’re free to change it. Just let me do my thing.”
“Fine. Go for it. I’ll change it after.”
“How do you know you won’t keep it?”
“Lucky guess.”
I watched as his fingers swept across the keys.
Hey there, I’m Ella!
This letter thing is crazy, right? But I’m game, if you are ;)
So first of three, I’ll give you some quick details about me.
I’m single (obvs).
I’m twenty-five.
I have red hair (I know what you’re thinking, but a girl never tells her secrets straight off).
“You can’t put that!” I screeched.
“Yes, it’s staying. It’s flirty and shows you might be up for a future hook up. Anyway, are you a natural redhead?”
I flicked his ears. “A girl never tells her secrets straight off.”
He pulled his tongue out at me and carried on.
My hobbies include fitness and partying.
“Finn, I come straight home from work most nights, unless I’m out with the girls, and the last time I went to a gym was about eight years ago.”
“This gives the impression you have stamina and you’re up for it.”
“Is that all a guy wants to know? That I’ll put out?”
“Basically, yes.”
“Well, that’s just tragic. I’m not sure I want to do this anymore if I can’t send the romantic letter I want to send.”
I sat back against my headboard and tears welled, threatening to spill over. I didn’t want someone who wanted a quick fuck. I wanted romance.
Finn looked at me and deleted his whole letter. We were back to a blank screen.
“Why did you do that?”
He shrugged. “You’re right. You’re trying this because you want something different. So, go for it. But don’t write what you did before either. Fully go for it. Write the dream. Write what you want and then if it doesn’t work out, at least you’ll know you gave it everything you had.”
I stared at him. “Finn, I had no idea you could be so profound.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. I have hidden depths.” He farted. “That came from one of them.”
I grabbed my laptop and dashed out of the room back to the living room, screaming that he was a dirty pig to fart on my bed and he’d never be allowed in there again.
His laughter echoed down the hall as he returned to his own room. Jerk.
Heading to the kitchen, I poured myself a glass of wine. Then I returned to the living room and settled down on the sofa, resting against a comfy cushion. After taking a huge gulp of the red and enjoying the burst of berries on my tongue, I placed the glass on the coffee table and picked up my laptop, placing it on my knee. I decided I was going for it. I would write what the hell I wanted and if the guy didn’t reply, he wasn’t for me. In fact—I thought about what Finn said—I would potentially scare my could-be suitor right from the off. Flexing my fingers, I started my letter:
Dear Future Husband
Also, I decided I’d make Finn read my letter in the morning. He’d die! Feeling energized, I carried on.
Still reading? Not made you run a mile, or burn this letter on a pyre? Congrats, we might have a connection.
I’m Ella. I’m twenty-five, a redhead, and I’m a dressmaker. My love life has been virtually non-existent for the past year. A customer spoke of Grace Graham and What the Heart Wants and I decided why not go for it? Try a different way of meeting someone. I love the idea of sending letters: sending a letter to you; someone matched for me, yet anonymous. Whereas in real life I’m kinda shy, here I can open myself up across the pages and if I blush, well, you won’t see it, will you?!
I don’t exercise unless you count lifting a glass of wine to my mouth. I love watching old movies and they don’t have to be romantic! I spend far too much time reading magazines and watching
TV shows about fashion. Fashion is my passion.
My ideal date would be a stroll in Central Park, or even maybe a carriage ride, followed by a lovely meal in a restaurant.
I have a loving family including my parents and a younger sister. They live far enough away to not be a nuisance, but close enough for us to see each other regularly.
Music wise I love Taylor Swift. I’m sorry! Maybe I should have put that at the beginning. I can already see you groaning about my loving girlie pop! But I can’t help myself, she’s inspirational to me.
I’ll leave my first letter here, short and sweet. Hoping you managed to read to the end without requiring a bucket to vomit in!
Love, Ella.
I read it back through and happy with what I’d typed, I went into my now fart-free bedroom and chose a notelet with an illustration of a table in a café bearing a steaming cup of coffee on the front. It reminded me of HappBEANness. Back in the living room, I handwrote the note using my best pen and handwriting. Placing it in an unsealed envelope, I put that and the application form in a larger envelope addressed to Grace. Before I could change my mind, I got my shoes and coat on and headed to the mailbox.
It felt ceremonious as I stood before the mailbox. I kissed the back of the envelope and let it go. My love life was in the hands of fate.
Back in the apartment I printed a copy off and folded it. I scrawled across a blank part:
