such lines as, "Why do you want a friend in the States? I'm curious as to what special meaning it would have for you."

Pen Pal requests come into ONE's offices, month after month, year after year, with monotonous persistence. They always express the assurance that some individual whose letter has been published is the one person whom they understand, and who would understand them in turn. They pant to enter into correspondence about the arts, literature, music and the ballet. Or so they say.

Does anyone seriously think this is what they are seeking? If so, why not join the innumerable organizations devoted to these topics to be found in all parts of the country? Start correspondence with women interested in the arts of such groups, or let the female homosexual correspond with male music buffs.

Just to make the point entirely clear a case history can be cited. An intelligent little letter of literary appreciation came into the office addressed to the writer of a story that had appeared in the Magazine. Authors seem always to be so hungry for praise that the Editors naively forwarded the note to him, feeling it was entirely harmless.

The author, at that time also naive, gratefully thanked his correspondent for such perceptive discussion of style and other literary matters. That did it, for back to the author came another letter so filled with obscenities that he was compelled to notify his correspondent any further communications would be turned over to the police.

It is about time that the whole Pen Pal question be faced, honestly and bluntly, the last thing such letter writers want done. For most of these people are either of such unpreposessing appearance that they fear approaching others, save by letter, or else they are jaded satyriasts who have used up the local market and

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seek new thrills farther afield. One additional group consists of those who "just don't know how to meet people," who are, in other words, badly maladjusted introverts, hoping somehow to cure their maladjustments with pen and paper.

One and all their motives are not letter-writing, but sex. Can't you hear the cries of outraged innocence at this charge. "How can you say there is no such thing as a genuine exchange of ideas between homosexuals? Your mind really must be in the gutter!" But who said anything of the kind? For the genuine exchange of ideas there are such outlets as the "Letters" columns in the Magazine, or the "As For Me" pages, which appear whenever anyone does have some ideas. Also, anyone with ideas busting out all over can always do an article to express himself.

However, this isn't what the Pals are looking for at all. They want to get right down to such real Pals-y Wals-y items as exchanging photos and measurements and the "visit me when you come to Chicago" routine. It's all pretty funny, or else a bit sad, depending on how you look at it. For most of these people are sick, maladjusted escapists of some sort or other.

There's nothing wrong in a little day-dreaming now and then, certainly not in seeking a sexual partner, a perfectly natural impulse. It's the method chosen that betrays the schizoid dangers in the whole business, the unrealistic dream that somewhere, somehow they are going to find a Prince Charming, or a Princess, for women readers send in about the same kind of requests. On they go, year after year, finally winding up in the clutches of the Berglers, or the state hospitals, their escapism having led them entirely off the beam.

The sensible, the healthy move, would be to start right in solving their problems from the ground up, step by

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