One of the major theorems in the study of metaphysics is that ‘ There are NO coincidences’. So it was that autumn of ’91, when I ran one more personal ad in the Long Island Newsday. I had run a few earlier personals and they were quite expensive… at least for a divorced father of two sons with a meager sales job. Earlier that year I had to give up my ’86 Honda CRV as the loan payments were too steep. I just found a new accountant ( who I still use these almost 40 years later) and he rescued me from filing personal bankruptcy. ” Are you crazy kiddo!? Just call the creditors and make a deal to pay off monthly. Save your ass!” I took his advice and, as he predicted, the bank and American Express were all too happy to see something coming to them each month. As far as the car, my father bailed me out again and let me have the Chevy Cavalier that I had bought for him when I was doing well with my previous telemarketing business. It was now a bomb but a free one. I can recall when I was in a play at the local community theater and had to bring a block of wood with me to the rehearsals. The starter was no good and someone showed me how to open the hood and wham the starter with the wood, run into the car and quickly turn the key.

So, here I was, living in an attic apartment in Elmont, Long Island for the ten years after my divorce. It was a quaint place, cozy but with a nice old lady landlord who had her quirks. She wouldn’t let me keep an AC in my kitchen window for the whole year. I had to get a guy to come every May and secure it and then come back in November to take it out. She also had the thermostat in her apartment downstairs and wouldn’t let me adjust it during the cold winter. Oh yeah, and each February she went down to Florida for a month and I was out of luck on cold, cold nights. You could see me laying down on my living room carpet with my socks on, resting right on the radiator, and … with my  kitchen stove on for more heat. No kidding.

I was working from my apartment selling sanding belts all over the country to glass and mirror makers, and then running over to the place I worked for with my orders twice a week. It was all commission and at least there was something I was good at: Selling over the phone. I guess I made enough that fall to afford another personal ad The previous ones brought me nothing to talk about. I met women but nothing ever came from it.  Anything was better than going to discos and pubs to meet someone. I really didn’t like to drink and hated loud music and all that cigarette smoke. A few years earlier I was a bartender and had to take a shower after my shift and throw my shirt and pants in the dirty clothes bin because I was immersed in smoke! So, let’s try one more ad.

I loved the film It’s a Wonderful Life and watched it every Christmas. So, I used the hook ‘ A George Bailey seeking his Mary’ for the beginning of the ad. Then of course I mentioned how I looked and who I was seeking. I made sure that I said ‘ Must send a photo please’. I sent the copy along with a check for well over $100 , perhaps $ 140 and did the waiting game. It usually took two weeks until Newsday would mail me the responses. When that day would come it was like you were a kid awaiting his birthday present. If the envelope was bulky then my ad did good. The mail came, I sat on my carpet, the one near that radiator, and opened my present. There were more than a handful of envelopes, and when I came to Stacy’s, I gazed at her photo and she looked so pretty, with blond hair wearing a very nice, classy dress. She left her work # in her note to me and I could just tell that she was an intelligent and thoughtful woman. So, I called her at work. She was very polite and agreed to meet me near where she lived in Yonkers at The Red Robin. I couldn’t wait to meet her. I had to wait until Tuesday because she said she needed a babysitter for her five year old daughter. On Tuesday all I could do was count the hours to meet her. I dressed in my bell bottom slacks, blew my hair out and wore a nice sweater. It was November now and the weather was changing a bit.

I got to the Red Robin ( she had given me good directions from Long Island) early and got a table within eyesight of the front entrance. I waited… and waited and she was late. Only fifteen minutes but it felt like an eternity. Just as I was about to call it a disappointing night she walked in. I must have jumped up to greet her and she apologized for being tardy, as the sitter was late. Who cares? She was there and now we could meet. We had a drink and laughed as we both said we really didn’t drink much, except me for wine and her an occasional rum and coke. She told me about her job as an executive secretary and her divorce, and I did likewise, telling her about my sales job and my ex wife. I could tell we hit it off, and after perhaps an hour that ran so quickly I looked at her beautiful blue eyes and asked her if I could kiss her, just after she told me she had to be going home. She paused and then said ‘Ok’ and as I kissed her while leaning over the table I could hear a sigh. Oh wow, I thought, this chick likes me. I was ecstatic! Then she said she really had to go. I asked for her home number and she said ‘ I have yours. Is that ok?’ When we walked out of the place I offered to walk her to her car and she said ‘ I’d rather you didn’t, no offense.’

Driving home I was so pissed! What in the hell did I have to kiss her so quickly? She was from rural Michigan and must have been scared by this fast talking New Yorker. Why couldn’t I just have taken it slow? What an asshole I was! I just blew it with this angel of a girl. The next day I was beside myself. I had to do something to make this right. I looked up the company where she told me she worked and then I went to the florist and had them send a nice plant with a brief poem I had written. I waited… and waited and two days later she called me. She thanked me for the plant and poem and agreed to go out with me again. I didn’t rush her this time, but she said Saturday was fine, but… she didn’t want me to know where she lived yet. Oh boy, the fear of the pushy New Yorker again. She gave me the address of a store near where she lived and I agreed to meet her there. Now, here’s the skinny on that. The store she wanted me to meet her at was a florist shop, but it was at night and for some reason, in my haste to meet her I must have wound up in the alley behind the shop. It was this rural looking road and it was pitch black. I pulled over by the rear of the place and immediately thought this was a setup. This chick was going to have some guys rob me! What was I doing!? For maybe two minutes I was on guard and then she appeared, telling me she was waiting in front of the shop and figured I got lost by her directions.

The rest is history children. Thirty four years later and this writer types and cries and cries and types. There are NO coincidences! Our destiny together was created through a personal ad, and George Bailey did meet his Mary.

PA Farruggio
June 2026