Recently I was introduced to this little thing on Craig’s List called “Missed Connections”. Maybe you’ve heard of it or maybe you live under a rock (with me apparently) but at any rate, Missed Connections is one of my new favorite ways to pass my time while I’m not busy doing things I should be doing. They are hours of foul entertainment.
& I’ve decided it’s high time for someone to write a Missed Connection about me.
I am the perfect candidate for one and I am constantly putting myself in situations to be recognized and subsequently written about on the internet and I am almost offended I have not had one yet. I mean, I can think of so many instances that would have been perfect Missed Connections…
“You were the cute, friendly girl at Whole Foods. You had long brown hair and your basket just had pineapple and red wine. The older, black guy bagging some lady’s groceries was singing Frank Sinatra and you looked at him and smiled so genuinely. Of course he started talking to you and you laughed at his jokes. You seem like a sweetheart. I was the guy in the plaid and the glasses with no lenses. Let’s have a picnic.”
“You were the girl at the show by yourself. You got there early and hung out alone at the bar. I don’t think you saw me because you were too busy looking important on your Blackberry, probably Twittering or pretending you were sending critical emails. Very mysterious and a little pretentious, scribbling things in a little notebook. I couldn’t help but want to bone you.”
“You are the attractive, obviously alcoholic brunette that comes into Trader Joe’s every other day. You buy anywhere between two and six bottles of Charles Shaw. I asked you if you were having an Oscar’s party and you said no. I asked if you were having a Charles Shaw party and you said you had a Charles Shaw party every night. You were nonchalantly flirtatious with me, the cashier, and I think I’d like to attend one of these parties if the invitation is still on the table. Holla.”
“I was at the gas station. It was 10 am. I asked you if you knew of any parties. You said, “It’s 10 am, bro” and drove off. Your sass is etched in my heart.”
“Oooooooo you were my wife that night. I meant everything I said but unfortunately the hands of fate and fame will keep us apart until your blog blows up and you reach my level of stardom. I have to protect you from my paparazzi permeated life and my PR team doesn’t think it’s a good idea to pick up girls at bars. One day we shall meet again, on a red carpet in some distant time when destiny will bring your nose to mine for an eternity of Eskimo kisses.
“
“I was walking down Beverly when I peered into a shop and saw you, typing away on your black Macbook. It would have been too awkward and obvious for me to walk in and talk to you so hopefully you’re reading this since you seem to spend a lot of time on the internet from what I’ve been watching the past couple weeks.”
“You were crip walking at the Shortstop. I thought, damn never thought I’d see the day a hipster was crip walking, but there you were, spilling whiskey all over yourself. You eyed me but I was with some girl. She was a lousy lay so if you want to get together over some Girl Talk and PBR, I’m down to pound.”
Okay, see, that’s seven just off the top of my head !!!
But then again, what kind of guys write Missed Connections anyway ? There are a couple options, most of which I wouldn’t want to actually date. I mean, there is the off chance that it really was a “missed connection” and the dude is decent with a moderately non-douchey personality. But the likelihood of that guy being on Craig’s List is even slimmer than that guy being in real life. I’m postulating that the guys on Missed Connections are probably trolls one way or another. I’m thinking they either have the social skills of Charlie Korsmo in Can’t Hardly Wait or the face of today’s Mickey Rourke, neither of which I want to spend an up close & personal evening with.
Next dude that asks for my number, I’m telling him to write a grammatically correct Missed Connection.
May the best prose take me out to sushi next week.
(Sometimes, I appall myself.)
