Love’s middleman

By Yin Lu Source:Global Times Published: 2013-3-28 20:33:01

 

Zhu Fang stands in front of photos of dozens of clients who have come to him seeking help finding their soul mate. Photo: Yin Lu/GT
Zhu Fang stands in front of photos of dozens of clients who have come to him seeking help finding their soul mate. Photo: Yin Lu/GT

 

Upon hearing stories about Beijing's "legendary first matchmaker" Zhu Fang, it's easy to instinctively picture the typical image of a Chinese matchmaker: a crafty, elderly woman with a mole dotting the corner of her sly smile.

But Zhu is actually an animated man, whose youthful energy and upbeat persona belies his age.

Walls inside his Haidian district apartment are covered with over 100 photos of different people, ranging from blissful newlyweds to elderly folks who are either Zhu's current or former clients.

A shelf lined with color-coded folders is filled with what Zhu, 67, coyly describes as his "files on Beijing's singles."

Since the capital's "Cupid" slung his first arrow in 1972, more than 860 couples matched by Zhu have tied the knot. Currently, he boasts almost 20,000 clients, whose ages range from 21 to over 80.

Besides fellow native Beijingers, Zhu's clients consist of people originally from other provinces or regions including Hong Kong and Taiwan, and even a handful of expats. 

His success proves matchmakers, who have plied their trade since ancient times in China, still play an important role bringing couples together in a digital age defined by speed dating and social networking.

Breaking the ice

Before his retirement in 1996, Zhu worked on the assembly line at a generator factory for 26 years. After work, he often busied himself matchmaking by taking shy, young women riding on the back of his bicycle to meet young men he felt made suitable mates.

His reputation quickly spread, leading him to distribute business cards and develop contacts wherever he went. He visited post offices, banks, markets and department stores to mingle with people and build a list of singles.

He also learned the tricks of his trade to help sow the seeds of romance.

"You should never start a conversation with 'I want to set you up with another person,'" he advised. "Instead, you should decide on a topic first and start chatting."

Zhu's success spread through word of mouth first at the factory, then throughout the neighborhood, village and even district. The media began taking an interest in him during the 1980s, resulting in his client listing expanding all over the city.

Nowadays, Zhu no longer scouts post offices, banks, markets and department stores for singles. Instead, they come to him.

Every Tuesday and Wednesday, visitors drop into his apartment to fill out forms listing their name, age and height, accompanied by a headshot. They also write down expectations of their desired spouse including appearance, income, hukou (household registration) status and education level.

Forms are organized in different folders according to age and gender. People can browse folders and pick possible matches, with Zhu providing contact information to interested parties.

He also organizes monthly matchmaking parties for young people and weekly activities for senior singles, mostly held in parks and rural areas.

Zhu has acquired almost a celebrity status through his work, often being greeted in public by people aware of his reputation. Throughout his interview with Metro Beijing, the matchmaker's phone rang off the hook from people calling his "hotline" to enquire about his services.

Game, set, match

Zhu charges 100 yuan ($16.10) for his services, although waives fees for low-income earners along with the disabled and elderly. The revenue complements his monthly 2,000-yuan pension, although Zhu insists matchmaking is a labor of love.

"I started this as a hobby, not for money," he explained.

At first, Zhu's wife of more than 40 years didn't approve because she felt it interfered with family commitments. She even burned Zhu's little book of matchmaking contacts during his early days in the business.

However, she eventually changed her attitude after seeing Zhu's enthusiasm and the joy he brought new couples. Today, she helps him organize gatherings, answer phone calls and register new clients.

Zhu insists he doesn't feel threatened by online matchmaking services because they deal with what he calls "different types of clients." His business, he stresses, depends on client trust because he invites them into his own home.

Zhu mainly aims to help working-class or elderly singles who aren't tech-savvy, although his clients come from all walks of life.

Sometimes singles can find love within a week of coming to Zhu, but generally it requires time and effort to match people with compatible partners.

Asked of his greatest challenge, Zhu claimed that "nowadays people are too picky."

"Men are picky about looks and women are picky about wealth," he said, recalling how he set up dates for one man with more than 150 women over eight years before he finally found "Ms Right."

His dedication to his work goes beyond marriage, however, with Zhu even helping a divorced couple reunite after mediation.

From singles to soul mates

Zhu's most committed client is a 61-year-old man, who registered with Zhu when he was 29. More than 30 years and hundreds of blind dates later, Zhu is still searching for a match for one of Beijing's loneliest bachelors.

"He's always at home playing on his computer, so I tell him get out to meet people as much as possible," Zhu mused. "But his biggest problem is he's too stingy. Who take dates to the vegetable market and serves sliced noodles for dinner?"

Asked what advice he would give Beijing singles luckless in love, Zhu offered a thoughtful pause.

"Take the initiative, and don't be afraid of calling the person you like," Zhu said, adding it was important to avoid having "unrealistic" expectations.

Zhu cited one client who only wants a woman with fair skin. Another man weighing more than 100 kilograms wants a petite wife of no more than 50 kilograms, while yet another fancies only plump women.

"In many cases, parents are the ones worried about their adult children not being married instead of the singles themselves. Meetings originally arranged for young people are now sometimes crowded with their parents," Zhu said.

Zhu has also helped forge platonic friendships between singles who might lack romantic chemistry but still hit it off with each other.

As for his future, he insists he's not ready to close his "singles files" anytime soon.

"I'll keep matchmaking until the day I can't move anymore," he joked.



Posted in: Metro Beijing

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