 Why did the librarian really give every woman Mr. Gorka's address?
She had been known to say that there are over a billion men in the world, a goodly percentage of whom are eligible bachelors, and that the right one would come along simply because she had been waiting for him. Someone in Nebraska wanted to trade match books; someone in New York needed a midwestern pen pal, but it was a woman; an elderly man interested in ornithology wanted a young chick correspondent interested in the same subject; a young, personable man wanted an editorial position because he thought he had something to offer the editorial world; and— Matilda read the next one twice. The name—Haron Gorka: its oddness was somehow beautiful to Matilda. Cedar Falls was a small town not fifty miles from her home, and she'd get there a hop, skip, and jump ahead of her competitors, simply by arriving in person instead of writing a letter. First place, I don't know any Haron Gorka—" Matilda kept the alarm from creeping into her voice. As far us the gentry of Cedar Falls was concerned, Haron Gorka did not exist. Certainly a man as well-educated as Haron Gorka would be an avid reader, and unless he had a permanent residence here in Cedar Palls, one couldn't expect that he'd have his own library with him. This being the case, a third-rate collection of books was far better than no collection at all, and perhaps the librarian would know Mr. Haron Gorka.
 to prove him wrong
 to find a woman that would really listen to him  she wanted to hear their stories  to prove him wrong  to help him find a suitable companion