With their abbreviated dialect - WLTM, GSOH, SWF - and cliched appeals, personal ads these days can appear anything but personal. But it doesn't have to be that way.
It's always fun scanning through lonely hearts sections in newspapers and magazines. Whether we're looking for love, or just a little curious, or idling away the time on a train journey, there's something intriguing about small ads. They are windows into other people's lives and many make for compulsive reading.
The first newspaper personal ads started appearing in the 19th Century and many magazines have had thriving columns for decades. Today, lonely hearts are big business.
Agencies that run small ads sections make fortunes by using premium rate phone lines and helping callers to formulate adverts. By asking a couple of choice questions an agency is able to create a brief statement about you that is then used to make your small ad. It's a good way of getting the job done, but is it effective?
Such ads invariably come across as a little formulaic and cold. And to the casual browser, they can be just a bit dull.
Rose by name... David Rose says love doesn't have to be a WLTM-word |
Readers of the London Review of Books (LRB) - the fortnightly British literary magazine - like to do such things differently.
LRB readers would sooner read the entire back catalogue of Jeffrey Archer novels than place an off-the-peg advert.
"Safety first. Dignity second. Trousers last. Rubbish wok-cooked foods enthusiast and flammable materials-wearing loon (M) WLTM F to 45 with fire-blanket and no small amount of knowledge regarding the correct batter-frying procedures of tempura. Bicester. Box no. 2006."
Instead of the standard "blonde hair, blue-eyed, likes theatre" formula of other lonely hearts sections, LRB advertisers use their 30 words to create bizarre hiakus of longing.
What is more peculiar is that the ads sometimes work. Admittedly they don't have a huge success rate (a handful of marriages, a couple of children, at least one divorce), but, if nothing else, they are original.
It's hard, for example, to ignore the unexpected presence of the German Reichstag in this typically untypical advert:
"Woman, 38. WLTM man to 45 who doesn't name his genitals after German chancellors. You know who you are and, no, I don't want to meet either Bismarck, Bethmann Hollweg, or Prince Chlodwig zu Hohenlohe-Schillingsfürst, however admirable the independence he gave to secretaries of state may have been. Box no. 2102."
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 A solo drinking session probably isn't the best time to tell the world you're ready for love  |
If you're thinking of placing a small ad, you could do worse than to take a leaf out of the LRB readers' book.
Announcing to the world you're single and looking for love is not an easy thing to do and having fun is an important aspect of the dating game. Bear in mind, though, there are several important things you need to take into consideration.
Timing is always important. When is a good time to place your small ad? I often get e-mails time-stamped in the early hours of a Sunday morning. You can almost hear the glug of a wine bottle being emptied in the background.
In my experience, a solo drinking session probably isn't the best time to tell the world you're ready for love.
When you are ready, don't rush into penning your ad. It's a certainty that whatever you think is great about yourself is less impressive to others:
"The only item you'll find in my fridge is soup. Forty litres of the stuff. Beat that. M, 46. Box no. 7524."
Perversely, this ad got a whole raft of excellent responses but, as a rule, no-one is interested in a failed attempt to enter the Guinness book of records in 1978.
Personal ads are an ever more popular way of finding a soul mate |
Many ask their friends to help. It'll do for starters; just be aware that friends make poor romantic partners and will like you for very different reasons than a prospective lover might.
But if you'd rather begin with the help of someone who knows you quite well, try getting them first to write a brief synopsis of your most appealing qualities.
Be careful of breaking the very few protocols of the personals' column. Rule one: don't mention money. In those first lonely hearts back in the 19th Century it wasn't uncommon for gentlemen to specify their annual income.
In those days, the personals were market places for the upper-classes to advertise their business acumen and secure marriages into equally wealthy families. Mercifully, this is no longer the case.
Honesty is a good policy at all times, but when you only have 30 words to sell yourself, it's a good idea not waste valuable wordage reliving your divorce:
"Save it - anything you've got to say can be said to my lawyer. But if you're not my ex-wife, why not write to box no. 5377. I enjoy vodka, canasta, evenings in, and cold, cold revenge."
My main piece of advice to all lonely hearts is to relax a little. Be prepared for the possibility of not getting any replies. Getting no replies or not getting the right sort or reply is no reflection on your qualities as a person nor is it the end of the world.
Don't be scared to try again. Be positive, be concise, and be bold. Even the ads quoted here struck gold eventually.
David Rose is advertising director of the London Review of Books. The ads in this article are taken from They Call Me Naughty Lola, edited by David Rose (Profile, 2006).
