Suspenders/II

II
Personal ads filled the classified sections of various publications.  From the literary periodicals like the New York Times Review of Books to the New Republic to the free local alternative publications in every major city, these attempts at reaching out to find a friend, mate, or just a temporary romance, flourished.  They could be a fascinating read.
People who would never answer an ad made a point to read them.  They offered a full exercise in fantasy.  Who might this person be?  Could there be someone out there I'll never know? Often the challenge and attraction of the ad were in the voice and word selection.  An example would prove useful here.  From a published collection of personal ads from New York city comes the following:

Within a few square inches, lies all that is positive and negative about these ads.  Their unpredictable truths and falsehoods lie ready to be revealed.  And, all the while, whether that slim, attractive, highly sensitive person is male or female, or has equal parts of both, there is only one way to find out.  Most people reading the ads never did follow up.  The stigma of having to depend on a personal ad to get a date prevented many people from doing anything other than reading the ads.  But read them they did.  Often first.  Eventually the opportunity to take a workshop or class on composing the perfect personal add appeared.  For a small fee, a talented writer would work with people seeking to put their best qualities and true soul into that small square of print that would lead to an exciting new romance.  These tutorials helped would-be lovers find just the right voice to sing their praises.
Speaking of voice, I was listening carefully to the voice on the other end of the line and considering a reply to the question before me.