I opened my mailbox to a letter the other day. Personal, handwritten snail mail, the best kind.
It took a moment to place the name on the return address: a man I know only casually over the counter of a business outside my community. I was there last week. I remembered him: about my age, very nice, soft spoken, genteel.
Two sentences in, I learned his letter was a solicitation to “get to know him better”. I’ll give him this, he was forthright: He knew my name from my purchase; he found my address on the internet; he is married; his wife travels a lot; he would like a close female “friend” on the days she is gone; he will never change his marital status; he had noticed me; he felt comfortable talking with me; would I be interested in dinner and drinks when his wife is out of…
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