In medieval Japan, confessing your crush wasn’t as simple as sliding into their DMs—it required a poet, a calligrapher, and a deep understanding of 12-layered robes. Enter the sukisha, professional love letter writers who turned flirting into a high art form during the Heian period (794–1185). These literary Cupids were hired by aristocrats to pen swoon-worthy missives, because nothing says romance like outsourcing your heart’s desires to a stranger with impeccable grammar.
Courtship in Heian-era Japan was a minefield of social rules. Noblemen and women rarely met face-to-face; instead, they communicated through screens, fans, and intermediaries. A poorly written love poem could doom a relationship before it began, so the wealthy turned to sukisha—often scholars or poets—to craft letters dripping with classical references, seasonal metaphors, and just the right amount of desperation. These pros knew their Manyoshu (an ancient poetry anthology) backward and forward, weaving lines from famous poems into declarations of love. Imagine a dating app profile written by Shakespeare, but with more cherry blossoms.
The process was part poetry slam, part spycraft. Letters were delivered by servants, folded intricately, and tied to a sprig of seasonal flora—pine for longevity, plum blossoms for hope. The paper’s color, scent, and texture were carefully chosen to signal the sender’s status and intentions. One misstep, like using autumn leaves during spring (a major faux pas), could imply your love was already withering. Sukisha even adjusted their handwriting style to match the sender’s personality—delicate strokes for shy suitors, bold lines for the confident.
The most famous sukisha were celebrities in their own right. Their services didn’t come cheap: payment might include silk, land, or even political favors. Some writers gained reputations for “100% reply-rate guarantees,” though historians suspect they occasionally ghostwrote responses for both parties—a medieval version of texting yourself from your crush’s phone.
But why outsource romance? Heian aristocracy prized indirect expression; raw emotion was considered vulgar. A love letter wasn’t just a message—it was a performance art piece proving one’s education and refinement. Even legendary authoress Murasaki Shikibu, who wrote The Tale of Genji, likely drew inspiration from these pros. Her protagonist, Prince Genji, famously bombards love interests with poetic letters, because nothing wins hearts like a well-placed tanka verse.
The sukisha tradition faded with the rise of samurai culture, which favored bluntness over floral prose. Yet their legacy lingers. Modern Japanese love letters still often include classical references, and Valentine’s Day chocolates come with carefully crafted messages—proof that outsourcing romance isn’t dead, just repackaged.
So next time you struggle to write a dating app opener, spare a thought for the Heian-era heartthrobs who hired professionals to avoid accidentally comparing their beloved to a wilted turnip. After all, in the game of love, it’s not whether you win or lose—it’s whether your metaphors align with the lunar calendar.
