Love, Like Beauty, Is in Eye of the Beholder--of the Video

A typical day. You and the cat, dozing, until Howard Stern blasts you out of bed.

You feed the feline, run 4 miles, work 10 hours, hit the health club, dine on salad. Then to bed with the clicker and the cat and the nagging question: How will I meet a mate?

Enter “TV Personals,” headed by entrepreneur Jeff Rudes, self-proclaimed future matchmaker to the hordes.

“What we have here is a simple concept,” he says, “but a very compelling one.”

Picture this: A singles channel on cable TV. People present themselves in 30-second segments, telling who they are and what kind of person they would like to meet. Sort of a home shopping channel for mates.

The project kicks off June 1, with “TV Personals” running seven hours a night, seven nights a week on United Artist’s Cable Channel 30 in the San Fernando Valley. If successful, it will expand to 24 hours and to all of Los Angeles and then go national, Rudes hopes.

To get the pilot project going, he had to find folks willing to go public with their single plights.

“I thought people might not be willing to put themselves out there in public like that,” says the former garment manufacturer, who’s 33. But he was wrong. As a result of ads in L.A.-area newspapers, and a linkup with the Young Executive Singles club, Rudes says he had as many acceptable applicants as he could handle--and “in an amazing diversity. All races, ages, girths and walks of life.” (And the men slightly outnumber the women.)

He invited them into the studio and taped them.

Meet Dan. On tape he says he’s a “full-time professional and a part-time stand-up comic” who wants to meet “an attractive woman with a great sense of humor.” But forget the words. With this one, it’s the visual that counts. In a second you see that Dan is highly groomed, nattily dressed, has sincere and smiling eyes.

A phone call proves he’s eligible, all right. Dan lives in a Westwood condo (no cat), manages the new mall at Sunset and La Cienega (“five theaters, lots of upscale eateries and shops,”) and has a resume that includes college, grad school, comedy courses and a spot on the board of directors of a battered women’s shelter. He’s 38, has had “many close relationships” and is ready to settle down.

Why go on TV?

“Why not?” he retorts. “I’ve never been shy; I’m not afraid to let people know I’m looking. If you want something, you have to go after it.”

And hey, “This is the ‘90s,” he says.

“ ‘TV Personals’ is not conceived as entertainment, like the ‘Studs,’ or ‘Love Connection’ shows,” Rudes explains. “Ours is not a game, but a service. You watch these people, and they’re real, with real feelings. You can see their strengths, weaknesses and personalities. It is a very hypnotic thing.”

And, in Rudes’ not-so-humble opinion, it’s the natural successor to video dating services and newspaper personal ads.

“The big drawback to printed personal ads is that they’re so impersonal,” he says. “You can’t see the people, can’t tell how much they’re lying about themselves. They can write anything--and you won’t know until you take the plunge and meet them. Personals on TV takes half of that gamble away; you know how the person looks and sounds.”

Meet John, an electronics technician who plays lead guitar in his own rock band. He’s “into metaphysics, likes baseball and is looking for an honest and open-minded woman,” according to his tape. By phone from his Chatsworth apartment, John says he’s “tired of non-committed relationships.”

What appeals to him most about TV, he says “is that people can see who I really am. At least no one will reject me for my looks,” he laughs, because “they’ll already know what to expect.” John doesn’t dance, go to clubs or bars, and says he feels “completely out of place” in nightspots “where everyone has their little phrases and pickup lines all made up in advance. I just can’t participate,” he says.

Di, a rhythm and blues singer in her early 20s, says she’s looking for someone “strong, honest and spiritual.” By phone from her Beverly Hills apartment, she explains: “In my industry, it’s not hard to meet men, but it is hard to meet someone loving and caring, who believes in God, as I do. I’d rather keep my professional and personal lives separate.”

Personal shopper Dianne, a sleek, 30ish blonde, says on screen that she’s seeking “a significant other to go life’s distance.” By phone, she says the televised format puts her “in the driver’s seat. By putting my own face forward, I am more in control. I can talk to people, check them out, decide if I want to meet them.” Some friends have “spent thousands on video dating services,” she says, and they netted nothing. “This seems simpler and costs less.”

Then there’s Gail, an attractive 40ish woman who speaks on film while her preteen daughter, Tiffany, sits beside her.

And Deanna, who lives in Paramount and seeks “cosmic consciousness” while caring for her “two celestial babies, ages 1 and 2.” She mentions her children in the message “so that men will know the babies are my highest priority,” Deanna says. “Anyone who doesn’t like that doesn’t have to call.”

How does it all work?

The mechanics of the show are simple: Each presenter gets a personal voice mail number, which appears at the bottom of the screen while the person talks.

Viewers call the number and leave messages, at a cost of $1.95 per minute. Rudes and his partners get a percentage of that revenue. And it costs 95 cents per minute for “advertisers” to retrieve messages from a voice mail box. Rudes’ firm earns a percentage of that fee too. There is a charge of $25 per person to tape the 30-second interview at a local TV studio.

Will it work?

“This whole thing is experimental,” says Rudes. “We have no idea if it will take off, or if it will even be profitable for us. All we know is that research tells us there’s tremendous pent-up demand among singles for alternative ways to meet people. Ways that don’t involve traveling or spending lots of time and money. And we don’t think there’s a better way than this.”