Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Making Connections out of Missed Connections

I found these 2 posts today and I wanted to (virtually) wave my hands, point and shout "Over there - look over there!"

May 21- Emily from NYU - m4w- (Williamsburg)
It was nice talking...

May 21 - Frankie on the L, Morgan Stop - w4m
maybe you can find me and we can talk some more? I was supposed to get off at Lorimer, but I didn't want to get up. The superheroes were not so happy.
- emily

These have to be a match right? I mean perhaps there were 2 MC's today on the L train with someone named Emily OR maybe Emily goes around chatting up every cute hipster East of 1st Avenue, but I have faith people! Maybe this makes me a hopeless romantic OR maybe this makes me a creepy stalker who spends too much time online trying to decode Craigslist. My guess is it's somewhere in between the 2.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

Hot Hot Heat

Jalapeño Birthday - w4m - 26

We were sitting at adjacent tables and you gave me a jalapeño pepper for my birthday. It was not actually my birthday nor was it actually a jalapeño pepper (our waiter said it was a Serrano), but it was still a nice thought.

Maybe next time we can sit at the same table?



From: Jalapeño Dude
To: Alex
Subject: Jalapeño Birthday


One of my associates brought this to my attention today.

I was wearing a black hooded sweatshirt, and I promised to get you a better present next year. My promise still holds.

what a strange universe.

- ******

Saturday, May 17, 2008

Ponytail 2.0 & How I Will Soon Be Forced to Frequent Another Gym

Crunch - 2:30pm -Modelesque Man who loves himself a Saturday workout - w4m - 25

you: tall, dark, handsome, with the bone structure of a Greek God and (yes definitely- a ponytail)
me: long blonde hair up with many a headband, black workout pants, pink & grey tennis shoes, with a serious staring problem

This is not the first time I've seen you at the gym on a Saturday afternoon. This is not even the second or third time. I have seen you on so many occasions at this exact time, that I now make it a point to come to the gym on Saturday afternoons whenever I can. Today when I walked in, I didn't see you right away. Then as I made my way over to a machine, I suddenly saw your glorious face right in front of me and we locked eyes. As you passed by, I thought your expression was one of recognition, but it was such a brief moment that I'm not sure. I have thought about writing a missed connection for you so many times, that now actually doing it, I am not even sure what to say. You. Are. Perfection. Literally everything about you is gorgeous. From the way you walk back and forth to the water fountain, to the way you lift yourself up on that pull-up machine, to your many, many crunches (oh those abs!), to the way you sit on the bench between sets almost as if brooding about something important....something deep. I could stare at you for hours...and typically I do (when I time it right!). I don't know what to say to you. You make me nervous and giddy.
Sometimes I feel like you are looking at me too, in the moments when I look away to catch my breath. Either you're looking back to check me out too...or you're contemplating a restraining order. Either way, we should probably talk.

To the fellow MC bloggers and readers- what do you suggest I do? I am seriously into the idea of talking to this guy, but am so nervous about approaching someone at the gym (please see ponytail saga of 2007 for my highlights with gym "romances"). I could ask him for some workout tips, but I am just not sure. Also, can someone this beautiful be straight? Questions, comments. Please refer to the comment section, also known as my version of therapy.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

why a craigslist account is a good idea.

a couple of weeks ago, i posted a missed connection, forgot to post it on this blog, and promptly forgot about it. i don't check my super-secret pseudonym email very often, and when i logged into it today to check that my new post had worked, i saw two replies from said post.

i had no idea what i'd written.

however: craigslist keeps your ads if you have an account! holla!!

spring in your step, strut in your boots - w4m

As I sashayed my way down 8th Avenue in my bright, springy orange coat, I could not help but notice you walking a few feet in front of me like you owned the whole street. You were rockin' out pretty hard on your iPod and came close to colliding with someone's Yorkie. But you were gallant about it, apologizing, and as you turned, I saw that you were not only tall and well-shod, but majorly cute as well.

[ strained innuendo ]

You can collide with my Yorkie anytime!
[< / strained innuendo ]

and so what was lost is now found. however, the two replies were:

Sounds very familiar! 8th and what?? (pls...)



what was I wearing?

so demanding, these replies! and of course, now that time's passed, i have a vague idea of the cross street and basically no knowledge whatsoever of the outfit of the gentleman (or, really, any idea of what he looks like). oops.

So I responded to both these clandestine swains, and my faith in the power of the internet was once again knocked down a peg. With Mr. Cross-Street, the exchange went something like this:

To: Frankie
From: Mr. Cross-Street

Sounds very familiar! 8th and what?? (pls...) wb

To: Mr. Cross-Street
From: Frankie

About 44th or 45th, I think.

To: Frankie
From: Mr. Cross-Street

but u r a dude, so could not have been u

Let me interject here. Most of the time, use of a single letter in place of a word, unless you are Prince, is grounds for immediate dismissal. But I had to clear this up.

To: Mr. Cross-Street
From: Frankie

Just because my name is Frankie doesn't mean I'm a boy! (It's Frances, really.)

To: Frankie
From: Mr. Cross-Street

hey frances, wanna do a pic exchange? =)

Okay, look. Clearly, Mr. Cross-Street, you are wookin pa nub in all da wong paces ("da wong paces" here being "craigslist") but what makes you think I will provide a photo to you when:
1. you thought I was a man, though the ad was clearly w4m
2. your use of "r" and "u" turns me on like a raisin (meaning not at all)*
3. you have shown no proof that you are, in fact, the intended recipient of this ad

I know, I know, I've put countless photos online that could be any number of places, so what's one more floating around in the digital ether? But it just geeks me out a little bit. Especially when there's no real cause** for a pic exchange.

*used with permission from the album I made up with my college roomie once. "That Turns Me On Like A Raisin (Meaning Not At All)" was one of the tracks, along with "Optometrist (Cover Yo' Eye)" and "I Found Five Dollars on the Street (Let's Go To Taco Bell)"
**real cause here being one or more of the following: ability to write a coherent sentence, demonstrated affinity for anything I like, possibility of actually being the real dude

Thursday, May 1, 2008

don't say "tight"

So last night on the train, this dude complimented my tights (which were, in fact, pretty dope) and we got to talking drunkenly. He was adorable and had good shoes and glasses, and I don't know why I didn't at least fling my card at him as I left the train. I'm going to blame the sangria/no dinner combo. So of course I posted an MC upon arriving home:

you complimented my tights and said you were a drunken fool. i humored you because i thought you had good shoes (and cute glasses). i exited at graham. you kissed my hand before i left. you live at dekalb (in the heart of bushwick, apparently, where there are only baby jesus bodegas). if you read this, let's make out.

I thought to myself "maybe this time, I'll be lucky...maybe this time he'll reeeeeaaaaad (my missed connection that I posted)." So when I got to work this morning, I checked my super-secret pseudonym account and lo and behold, a message awaited me. However, due to the ridiculously strict internet policies of my current position, I can see iGoogle, and I can see the addresses and subject headings of my emails but I can't ACTUALLY SEE THE EMAILS THEMSELVES. I called Alex and considered asking her to check my account and read me the email in the hopes that my subway Romeo had seen my missive and responded in the affirmative. But then I thought: okay. There are two possibilities here, and these are the only two:
1. It's him.
2. It's a picture of a penis.
Because really, who responds to a post THAT specific at 4 in the morning if it's not for them? Only someone trollin' for the bootaaaayyy.

So when I met my iPhone-toting friend later in the evening, I checked it out.

Not one.
Not two.
But THREE PEEN PICS. THREE. In one of which, the dude appears to be talking on the phone (you can see its cord [yes I said "cord"] in the background). They're SO BIZARRE. It had to happen sometime, right?